


Woman King

by juniperallura



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Historical, F/M, Light Angst, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pining, Secret Relationship, Slow Burn, klance, shallura - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-03
Updated: 2017-12-23
Packaged: 2018-10-27 13:21:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 48,972
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10809852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/juniperallura/pseuds/juniperallura
Summary: Queen Allura rules over the Altean court, in the company of her young cousin Lance. As the bloody war with the Galra drags on, she searches for unlikely allies- including a supposed defector dwelling on the edge of the palace village. A Shallura historical/fantasy AU (with side Klance).





	1. Introduction Part One

**Author's Note:**

> Part one of introduction, mostly to get acquainted with the verse/characters  
> Characters slightly aged up
> 
> Now with a playlist: http://juniperallura.tumblr.com/post/164141868434/listen-read-the-fic-art-credit

The bedroom was flooded with white autumn light. Her armor lay readied on the bed, scabbard glinting at her from against the carved bedpost. It wouldn’t be needed until later, when it was time to send the next battalion north to the Galran border; of course, no knights left for battle without the Queen’s blessing.

Allura snorted, meeting her own gaze in the spotty mirror as she dragged her ivory-handled brush through her hair. The sun that filtered through the windowpanes made the silver tresses seem to glow as they fell loosely out of her grasp. 

She was blessed, they said, born with a silver halo. Given the breath of life by the full moon. Never mind that she had taken her mother’s life in the process. Or that she had inherited a kingdom locked in a grisly war when she was barely of marrying age. Her eyes flickered over the portrait of her parents that hung over the vanity. _Some blessing._

She met her reflections’ eyes again. It was all bullshit.

With deft hands she braided two sections of her front locks and pinned them back. Her routine was complete with the satisfying scratch of metal against her skin as she settled the band of her tiara over her forehead. 

* * *

Allura didn’t knock before she pushed open the heavy wooden door. To her surprise, she was met with darkness and the sound of steady, deep breathing. Her eyes narrowed, heels clicking against the stone floor as she marched over to the window and flung open the heavy velvet curtain. “ _Cousin_ ,” she called curtly, skirt swishing as she did the same to the next window, “Are you unaware of the time?”

The figure swathed in blankets replied with a low groan, shifting further under their covers.

“ _Lance_ ,” Allura sighed, approaching the bed with hands planted on her hips, “Where is your chambermaid? Miri never lets you waste away in sleep like this.”

Lance moaned again, rolling over to look at her through bleary eyes. “Don’t you know growing boys need their rest?”

Allura raised a brow. “Well then I better not see any _boys_ dipping into the wine jug at the feast today.” She chuckled as Lance suddenly raised himself from the dead, shooting her a glowering look.

“What is all this about, anyway?” Lance yawned, running a hand through his matted hair, “I don’t have to go into town again, do I?”

“Again?” Allura caught the odd wording, but when Lance waved her question away she continued, “No, we both have a meeting with Coran and the ministers. Then I have an- errand. And you have training.”

Lance sighed heavily. “ _Must_ I train today?”

“Lance,” Allura peered at her cousin, eyes narrowing in concern, “Are you ill? You’re usually so eager to practice your swordsmanship.”

Allura could have sworn she saw color flushing his face, but Lance turned away from her with a dismissive wave of the hand. “I’m fine,  _Your Highness._ And I’m awake, so you can go attend to someone else.”

“Very well,  _Prince Lance_.” Allura’s eyes lingered on his back before she turned on her heel and swept out of the room. 

 


	2. Introduction Part Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enter: Shiro, Keith, and a stranger

Shiro pulled tight at the reins that knotted around the wooden post. “I’ll be back soon,” he murmured, laying a hand over the dappled gray muzzle of his horse. His eyes flickered to the sky, which was darkening behind the film of clouds. It had been an easy ride, only about an hour, from his orchard to the edge of town where the swordsmith’s shop stood. But that was in good weather, and Shiro feared that, even going along the village’s paved roads, picking his way through the market and up to the Altean royal castle in the rain would be a long journey. His mare nickered, glancing toward the road with anxious eyes. Shiro sighed. “I know, girl.”

He shouldered open the shop door, pulling down the hood of his cloak. Over the ring of the door bell a raspy voice called, “We’re closing sir—  _oh_ -” 

Shiro met the shopkeeper’s wide eyes. He was a kind man, hardworking and generally unassuming, but he didn’t have much in the way of composure. His eyes always fixed pointedly on Shiro’s arm, rounded off above the elbow, and searched his face, probably picking out every foreign feature. “I didn’t mean to startle you, sir,” Shiro lingered in the doorway, thinking it best not to step closer to the nervous swordmaker’s wares. 

“No, my apologies,” the man bowed his head slightly, no longer holding Shiro’s gaze, “I’ll find Keith.”

He scurried out of the room, leaving Shiro to let his eyes wander. He ambled over to a display of daggers, their blades flickering in the lamp light. A smile pulled at his face— it was easy to tell which ones were Keith’s. The blades had a slight opalescent quality to them, and there was a symmetry, a smoothness that the master’s pieces didn’t quite achieve.  _The irony_ _._ Shiro had known the kid about three months and already knew  _he_ should be running the shop-

“What is this about, Shiro? I’m in the middle of something.”

Shiro turned. Keith was looking levelly at him from across the counter, wiping his hands on the front of his apron. In his master’s house he always kept his tone with Shiro cool, and who could blame him? He was a foreigner himself in Altea, not yet established enough to parade around a friendship with the likes of the suspicious one-armed man who lived deep in the woods. 

“I won’t be long,” Shiro frowned. He sucked in a breath, pausing for a second before asking, “Did you know the Queen’s guard was looking for me?”

“No.” It was Keith’s turn to frown, his brows knitting. “Are they?”

“They rapped on my door this morning. I’ve been summoned.” Shiro tucked his hand under his right forearm. “But you knew nothing of this? You were training at the Castle yesterday, were you not?”

“No- the Prince wasn’t feeling well,  _apparently_.” There was an undercurrent of bitterness, or maybe disappointment, in Keith’s voice that Shiro caught, but ignored. “I promise, I knew nothing about it-” he leaned his elbows on the counter, “What did they want?”

“They didn’t say, exactly, but one of them mentioned my ‘particular skill set’and ‘experience.’” Shiro caught his lip in his teeth. “I was hoping there was just something you were keeping from me- I don’t like going in blind.”

“But you’re going?”

Shiro nodded, a dry smile curling over his face. “A loyal citizen of Altea cannot disobey his Queen’s orders.”

Keith snorted as Shiro turned to go. “I guess then I’ll meet you there. Just be careful you don’t get your head chopped off— or  _bitten_ , you know the Queen has a sharp tongue.”

Shiro paused with his hand on the door, calling over his shoulder, “Couldn’t be more painful than my arm, could it?”

* * *

The sound of his horse’s hooves against the cobblestone faded as Shiro drew nearer to the bustling marketplace. The street widened and lanterns began to appear overhead, throwing their flickering light over the stalls that crowded either side of the throughway. In the distance Shiro could make out the castle, its windows glowing in the twilight. 

Shiro tried to avoid the town in general, preferring his distant orchard to the prying eyes that swamped the royal center; but, he had to admit, there was a nice kind of anonymity that came with wading through the market crowd. Here, no one noticed another cloaked figure slipping through the stream of bodies. No one looked too long, spoke too long-

Suddenly, something knocked into Shiro’s left shoulder, loosening his grip on his horse’s reins.

A smooth voice sounded from in front of him, “ _Oh_ \- excuse me, sir- my apologies-”

Shiro looked up to find that the voice belonged to a young man dressed in a dark green tunic, sleeveless like an apprentice’s uniform. A pair of bright blue eyes met his. “No harm,” Shiro answered with a nod.

A crooked smile pulled at the stranger’s face as his gaze seemed to scan Shiro. “Y’know, it may be lucky that we bumped into each other- you look like a weary traveler who could use some refreshment-” Seemingly from nowhere, a fresh peach appeared in his hands, along with a prodding expression. “And at a special price, for my rudeness.”

Shiro raised a brow. “If I wanted produce I’d go to the vendor, not a street heckler.” He nodded to a nearby stall selling identical fruit. 

“No? Well maybe I could interest you in something like this-” The peach disappeared and sprig of dried herbs materialized. “-Dried mugroot, all the way from the western mountains. Said to give a man three times his strength and four times the endurance.” He peered behind Shiro to look his horse in the eye, “Might do the same for your beast, as well.” The smile flashed again.

“I’m not interested,” Shiro replied flatly, beginning to lose his patience, “You’ve said your piece, move on.” As he spoke, fat drops of rain began to drip onto the street.

Unperturbed by Shiro’s bluntness, the young man merely nodded with the same grin. “Of course, sir— may your travels be blessed by our beloved Queen!” 

With something like a snicker he moved to shoulder past, but was stopped when Shiro’s hand suddenly dropped the reins and wrapped tightly around his wrist. Shiro pulled at his arm, eyes narrowed and voice low. “Not so fast, boy.  _My money_.”

For a second the stranger’s face was all innocence, but it soon cracked with a wily smile. “You’re quick,” he conceded, holding up a velvet coin purse in the hand not constricted by Shiro’s grip.

Just as Shiro reached for the purse, a hot pain shot down from his right shoulder into the elbow that was no longer there. He grunted, instinctively reaching to grab at his forearm. The thief’s eyes widened; Shiro realized that until then his cloak had been concealing the absence of his right arm. Something in the boy’s face registered more than the usual shock or disgust— did he  _recognize_ him? 

Just as the thought passed through his mind the velvet bag was tossed into the air, and by the time Shiro looked over his shoulder he was greeted only by the blank faces of the crowd.


	3. Chapter One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Queen Allura sizes up a newcomer to her court

Allura’s palms slid over the wood grain, her fingers wrapping tightly around the lion heads carved into the arm of her throne. In the stillness of the chamber she could hear the light sound of clicking metal every time her breath lifted the chain mail off her chest.

Just as she thought the silence might drive her mad the wooden doors swung open with a heralding creak, an accompanying gust sending shivers through the candlelight. The clang of a dozen metal soles synchronized against stone echoed through the chamber. Her spine straightened against the back of the throne, chin tilting up as her eyes fixated on the doorway.

Her guard parted to reveal a figure draped in black, light illuminating the sliver of chest plate that the cloak revealed. Shirogane, Coran said he was called. A lone wolf, apparently a legendary fighter, possibly the only person to defect from the Galra army and live. Part of her was repulsed, imagining the things he must have done— and yet, part of her was intrigued.  

Something jumped in Allura’s veins when her gaze swept over him; he was nothing like she imagined. He was young, for one thing— he couldn’t have been much older than  _her_ , even. That being said, there was a set to his face, angular and wary  ~~and handsome~~ , that spoke of a man weathered beyond his years. She scanned his figure, trying not to linger on the folds of fabric she knew concealed his residual limb. When her gaze fell on the shock of white that coursed through his dark locks she tightened her grip, so as not to reach for her own silver tresses. 

His dark eyes boldly met hers, and Allura hoped her expression was equally as composed as they silently tried to read one another. Suddenly he reached to his side and drew his sword from its scabbard, resting its point against the floor. She glanced at her guard, all of whom had reacted viscerally to his gesture. Allura sat very still as Shiro slowly lowered himself onto one knee, head bowed.

He spoke. “It is an honor to offer my services to the Queen of Altea.”

The guard relaxed at her nod, stepping back and removing quick hands from hilts. “I thank you,” she leaned forward in her seat, watching him with a steady gaze, “I am sure you understand the sensitive nature of the circumstances which bring a person such as yourself to my court, and we thank you for your cooperation.”

Coran stepped out from behind her, hands clasped behind his back and brow set. “-And I will you remind you, as is my duty, that you have been allowed to reside in our kingdom through the generosity of our Queen. Should you act in any way which endangers Altea, we will not hesitate to throw you back into the  _pit_ from whence you came.”

“Of course, I understand.” Shiro looked up, a hint of a smile playing on his face. “Although- respectfully, sir- while I see the prudence in your caution with me, I am surprised to hear my people spoken of in such a way. I was under the impression the Altean court was an ally.”

An audible reaction rippled through the chamber. Allura’s tight nerves flared at his audacious comment. She stood quickly, her hand instinctively flying to the hilt of her blade. “You  _dare_ speak to me like this?” Blood was moving hot and quick in her veins. “I will not be mocked by a  _Galra traitor_  in my court,” she spat. 

To Allura’s surprise, confusion seemed to flicked over Shiro’s face. His brows knit and a frown pulled at his mouth before he spoke cautiously. “Galra? Your Highness, I don’t understand.”

Coran stepped in, asking contemptuously, “Are you not Takashi Shirogane, the Galra commander who lost his arm fleeing a humiliating defeat at the hands of the Gaians? Do not think us naive, son. We are not ignorant of your past—you are a marked man.”

The creases in Shiro’s face deepened, but no trace of comprehension flickered in his eyes. His tone was even but tight. “I have been accused of many things, but never of being  _Galra_. If I may, where did you hear this?”

Allura’s glance darted to Coran; from the look in his eye, he understood no more than she. Allura frowned, considering the figure still kneeling before her. “Guards, ministers— leave us.” There was a heavy beat of silence. No one moved. Her eyes swept over the room, her brows knitting. 

Coran turned to her, “Your Highness, as your adviser I cannot-”

“ _Coran._ ” She met his concern with sternly. “You are dismissed.” After a moment’s hesitation he nodded in silent acquiescence, giving her one last frown before he led the others out of the chamber. Allura turned back to Shiro. “Please, stand.”

He obeyed, sheathing his sword. 

Neither moved, both holding the other’s searching gaze. After a taught stretch of silence, Allura sighed and began pacing slowly before her throne. At length she said simply, “You make my guard very nervous.”

Shiro, who had been watching her with a cautious eye, let out a short, dry laugh. “With good reason, apparently.”

Allura stopped, a hint of a smile pulling at her lips. She sat slowly back in her seat, folding one leg over the other under her skirts. She sighed again before beginning, “Shortly after the summer solstice we received word of a prison break, in the Galra territory across from our northwestern border. Many Alteans were freed and fled back through the mountains. Then a source informed us that there had been a Galra among them, disgraced and captured by his own people.”  A deep frown was pulling at Shiro’s face. “We located you outside the village, and you seemed to be living quietly enough. This, essentially, is what we know.” 

Shiro was silent.

Allura leaned forward. “I’ll say your reputation was very hard to ascertain- even among the rescued Alteans. Some spoke of you as a cold-blooded killer, some as a noble warrior...” She paused, her chin tilting up. “Others as a coward. Either way, you had information that could be valuable, if you were to cooperate, so we brought you here.”

“I see.” Shiro tucked his hand under his forearm. “If I may, has the Kingdom of Gaia had anything to say about this?”

“Only in passing, that you were, indeed, disgraced.” Allura’s lips curled into a slight smirk. “I presume they think themselves above such allies.”

Something glimmered in Shiro’s eyes. He took a hesitant step forward. “I believe, Your Highness, that there has been a grave miscommunication.”

Allura’s smile faded. “How so?”

Shiro opened his mouth but hesitated, weighing his words. “It is true, I was- disgraced.” His face twisted into something of a grimace. “But I am not a  _Galra_ \- I am Gaian.” Allura’s eyes flashed, a small sound of surprise humming from her chest. Shiro continued, “I was an officer in the Gaian army, leading a battalion in southern Galran territory. There was fierce battle in the Komar mountains, and- I was captured. I spent two years in the prison of which you spoke.” Allura had fallen slowly back onto the seat of her throne, nodding as he spoke. “I assume  _that_ is where this rumor originated.”

Allura’s hands clasped each other tightly as her eyes raked over his form, as if looking hard enough could reveal some hidden truth. There was something about his face, about the look in his eye, that made her want to trust him. Or was that just the way the candlelight hit him? 

“This may change things, indeed.” She stood with a quick intake of breath. “I must speak with my council before any decision is made. I ask that you stay and await my summons,” she gestured toward the door, “A page can show you to your quarters.”

“Of course.” Shiro bowed low at the waist. “Good night, Your Highness-” He met her eyes once more before he turned on his heel and strode toward the exit. Allura saw him drag a hand down his face before he slipped through the great oak door.

As soon as she was alone, Allura let a long, slow sigh drag from her chest. She ran frustrated hands through her hair, her fingers catching on the thin braids that hid in her curls. After a moment Allura rose and made her way slowly back to her bedchamber; even in the empty hallway, she swore she could still feel a pair of dark eyes on her.


	4. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shiro encounters a surprise at the training pitch; Keith gives Lance a warning

Shiro threw open the window, filling his chest with crisp morning air; only a week had passed, but he could notice the October chill settling deeper into the Altean countryside. Silver fog still clung to the village down below, yet untouched by the morning sun. After a moment he left the window and turned to his vanity, splashing a handful of water from the basin over his face and neck. A shiver ran down his spine as the droplets cooled against his skin, and he wiped away his drowsiness with a towel.

A few minutes later Shiro ducked into the hallway, settling the strap of his scabbard over his chest; to his great relief the corridors were empty. While most of the court were cordial enough toward him, he was growing weary of the tension that underpinned every interaction. The confusion about his identity had been cleared up quickly with the Queen but the residual impression of him being a  _Galra traitor_ was no so easily scrubbed from the minds of his colleagues. 

The men he was in charge of training seemed at least to respect him. After the first day, their awe over a one-armed warrior surpassed their distrust of a foreign stranger. But beyond the pitch, in the halls of the castle, sidelong glances, furtive whispers, and wary frowns all seemed to stalk him. On the days that Keith, who seemed to have made a small niche for himself, managed to pull him to the communal table, the conversation took painstaking turns to avoid addressing him. Shiro didn’t particularly mind- it was all the same as when he went into town on market days. Besides, he preferred to take his meals quietly in his chambers anyway, rather than face the din of the mess hall.

However, there emerged a surprising exception to the ‘treat Shirogane like the plague’ rule: Queen Allura.

He had been summoned by her three times, led by a page into the same chamber to which he had first been escorted. A table of generals and ministers, with Allura at the head, was waiting for him each time. At first the others seemed affronted by his presence (a feeling they wouldn’t openly express in front of the Queen,) but begrudgingly accepted him when Shiro kept his head down, preferring to observe rather than participate.

It was fascinating to watch Queen Allura preside over these meetings. According to Keith, there had only been one other ruling queen in Altea’s history, some widowed regent far in the past; for the kingdom, and many of its neighbors, she was something of a phenomenon. And, clearly, she knew this. There was an intensity about her, burning and focused and radiating from her core. Even when her tone was gentle, an edge lay just beneath the surface; and God help you if it  _wasn’t_ gentle. Shiro found himself unable to pull his eyes away from her as she spoke. She was— fascinating.

And beautiful, certainly. Every line of her face was strikingly elegant, and often he couldn’t tell if her hair was glowing or if it was only the candlelight reflecting off her jewelry. But there was something more, something almost otherworldly about the way she moved, the way she spoke. Something that dragged his attention ceaselessly back to her, but forced him to look away when she turned her piercing gaze in his direction. It was that same something that compelled him to turn down every courtly dinner invitation she extended to him. Every time he declined she just smiled, nodding, but when he met her eyes Keith’s warning echoed in his ears and suddenly his neck began to stiffen. 

Shiro blew a huff of air out his nostrils, shaking his head at himself. He was glad to be stepping into the training pitch, where he could clear his head of such nonsense. At least, that was what he had hoped.

A cry sounded from across the graveled oval, followed by a dull wooden  _thunk_. Shiro looked over to see a figure, clad in the same black tunic he wore, pulling a sword from a wooden column. The moment he recognized her he tried to retreat, but a long silver plait whipped around at the sound of his foot crunching stone. Her icy eyes flashed, and he stopped in his tracks. 

“I’m sorry to disturb you, Your Majesty,” Shiro called with a frown.

A glint of sun caught her golden armband as she reached up to wipe her forehead. “Nonsense,” Allura replied, sheathing her sword as she walked toward him. 

As she approached Shiro bowed slightly, keeping his eyes on her. Seeing her like that— tiara-less, hair braided back into a swinging ponytail, skirts swapped for training leggings— was almost unsettling. And yet, Shiro had never seen her more radiant. 

He cleared his throat. “I did not mean to interrupt your training- it’s usually deserted at this hour.”

A smile played over Allura’s lips. “I confess I cannot bring myself to rise before the sun  _every_ day, but occasionally I can goad myself into it.”

Shiro’s bottom lip dropped, his head bowing in embarrassment. “Oh- my apologies, I didn’t mean-”

“Please, Shiro,” she waved her hand, chuckling lightly, “I jest.”

He looked back up at her. “Of course, Your Majesty.” The corner of his lip pulled up into a sheepish smile.

Allura planted her hands on her hips, seeming to consider his figure for a minute. Her eyes came to rest on his right shoulder, and then flashed to his face as she said with a raised brow, “However, you have been giving me reason to take offense, of late.”

Shiro opened his mouth but said nothing, his mind too busy racing through everything he’d said and done in the last week that could have taken him out of her good graces. The stiffness in his neck was beginning to return.

Apparently amused by the panic on his face, she continued, “Few subjects would refuse the Queen’s dinner invitation once- but  _three_ times? I suspect, Shiro, that you are the only one who would dare.”

“ _Oh_ ,” Shiro’s face reddened, but a sigh of relief escaped him. “Forgive me, Your Highness- it has been a busy week and, frankly, I do not think I would be much of a dinner guest.” He bowed, “Again, my apologies. Should it repair my rudeness I would be honored to join your table, whenever suites Your Majesty.”

“Well, I am certainly gratified by your apology,” Allura nodded, her eyes sparking as she smirked, “However, if you truly wish to restore yourself in my court, there is one more thing I ask.”

Shiro’s brow knit at her suddenly mischievous expression. “Anything, Your Highness.”

Her hand reached for the hilt of her sword. “Train with me.” Shiro blinked, lip dropping in surprise. Allura nodded toward his residual limb. “I admit, I am fascinated by the tales of your swordsmanship. I caught a glimpse of your work with the soldiers- it was indeed impressive, and I’m eager to test my own abilities against the infamous one-armed Gaian warrior.”

Shiro scanned her face with a raised brow- she didn’t appear to be joking. “You mean- you want to- spar?”

She nodded. “Precisely.”

Shiro had to admit, he was itching to see her skills as well; he wasn’t the only one with a reputation. However, the thought of clashing swords with the  _Queen_ was, in a word, absolutely terrifying.

“I won’t forceyou to,” Allura said, probably reading his thoughts on his face.

“No, no,” Shiro acquiesced with a sigh, his curiosity getting the better of him, “Of course, Your Majesty.”

A satisfied expression settled over her features as she paced away from him, slowly drawing her sword. He did the same, watching her warily.

They began circling each other slowly, their feet dragging over the packed gravel. “Just be warned, Shiro,” she called, “If you kill me- Coran will have your head.”

Shiro barely had time to savor his life before she lunged toward him. Their swords met with a resounding clang, pushing apart with a metallic hiss— and so began their dance. Allura attacked with a well-focused agility, knowing to exploit the weakness in his right side, but Shiro responded with a strength and balance that made them quite evenly matched. For awhile she had him on the ropes, her lips curling into a wild smile as they wove around each other. Then, a hesitation on one swing allowed Shiro to regain ground and he began inching their footing back and back as she defended. 

Their eyes locked and it was over in an instant. She didn’t anticipate the column that hit roughly against her back. In one swift movement the sword was knocked from her grip and Shiro’s blade hovered parallel to her heaving shoulders, an inch from her throat. They froze like that, both gasping for breath. He could feel the warmth radiating off her body. Her gaze, only a hand’s width away, was piercing as it met his. 

Then her eyes flickered away. “You might keep your head, but Coran does not appear to be very happy with you,” she breathed. 

A bolt of realization hit Shiro. He drew back suddenly, his face coloring as he put an appropriate amount of distance between them. While his attention had been captured by their fight, the sun had risen and a small crowd of onlookers had gathered in the stands of the pitch. A crowd (of Alteans) who had just watched him (an alleged Galra traitor) pin the Queen (who could have him executed instantly) against a wall with a sword. His stupidity  _truly_ never ceased to amaze him. 

Shiro quickly sheathed his sword, dropping into a low bow. “Your Highness, I beg your forgiveness for my carelessness. That was— please, accept my sincerest apologies- I don’t know wh-” He spoke quickly over the murmur rising from the stands.

“Shiro.” Her voice was even. He raised himself up, barely daring to meet her eyes. Allura tilted her head. “I will see you tonight for dinner.” 

With that, she turned on her heel and began striding toward the opposite side of the pitch, where her adviser was watching them with a deep frown. Shiro stood dumbstruck for just a moment before deciding it was best to leave while his head was still attached to his neck. As he stepped off the pitch he caught Keith glaring at him from high in the stands, but Shiro kept his head down and tried to calm the blood that pounded in his veins.

 

* * *

 

“Again.” Keith crossed his arms, lips pulling into a frown. “This time watch your footing.”

“Are a million tries not enough?” Lance pulled his sword out of the chest of a scarecrow, rolling his eyes at the figure that watched him from atop the low wooden fence. “I’d rather we just fight, like my cousin and her trainer.”

“A million and  _one_ would be enough, if you would follow my direction.” 

Keith raised a brow. “So you heard about that?” Lance nodded with a wicked smile, turning his sword over idly. Keith sighed, “Shiro is not the Queen’s trainer. And besides, your training is hardly advanced enough for that-” a smirk spread over his face- “I’d defeat you shamefully.”

Lance blew incredulous air between his teeth. “That’s because swordsmanship is so dreadfully  _boring_.” He sheathed his blade, raising a coy eyebrow as he took slow steps toward the split rail fence. “I would much rather be practicing archery.”

Keith pursed his lips as Lance drew nearer. “I know. But I was not hired by the Queen to train you in something you have already mastered.”

“Then maybe it’s time the tables were turned-” Lance’s eyes flashed mischievously as he planted his hands on either side of Keith’s perch. “I would be happy to teach you the ways of the bow.”

Keith met Lance’s twinkling gaze, only inches away, with an even stare. “I’ll allow it— if you can face Shiro.”

Lance rolled his eyes, biting his cheek as he pushed off from the fence and folded his arms. “I told you, I have a plan.”

“Is your plan to stall until you think he has forgotten your face? Or wait until your cousin discovers how you sneak around the village playing urchin?” Keith leaned forward, but kept his voice low. “Your time has run out. He’ll be at dinner tonight- the Queen convinced him.”

“What makes you so sure he’ll speak of it to Allura?”

“I’d imagine it’d be a good conversation starter, should the night lull. I would inquire, were a strange Prince to rob me in the town square.”

Lance tsked. “As if she would believe him.”

“As if you haven’t caused such mischief before.”

“Who’s to say she would even care? Maybe all this fretting is for nothing.”

Keith slid off the fence. “Wasn’t it only months ago that she had you polishing silver for stealing cakes from the kitchen? You of all people know the Queen’s temper.”

For a moment Lance bit his lip, his gaze boring into the ground. Then the spark in his eyes returned and he leaned back toward Keith, nudging his chin up with a smirk. “I think I’ll try my luck. And I believe that means  _my_ training is over for the day.”

Keith sighed, a smile playing over his lips as he caught Lance’s eye. “I guess so, Lord Prince.”


	5. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two scenes as Lance and Shiro go to dinner

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (cw: ableist language)

“Please hurry, Lord Prince, I would hate to keep the Queen waiting.”

Lance emerged from his bathroom, still basking in his post-bath glow. He waved away his chambermaid’s fretting, drawling, “Where is the harm, if the Queen is kept another ten minutes? She should learn not to pop out of her corset at the slightest thing-”

Miri’s plump chin dropped. “Lord Prince, such a mouth!” One hand clutched her chest, aghast, while the other held out a towel for Lance. “Please, dry your hair- you’re dampening your tunic.”

Lance pulled the towel over his head and mussed his hair, falling onto the stool in front of his vanity. He sighed as Miri trotted around the room, pulling clothes from his wardrobe and muttering about dust bunnies. Keith’s words wouldn’t stop echoing in his head:  _You’re out of time_.

Lance dragged a hand down his face. He couldn’t fathom the depths of Allura’s anger, should she discover him. The screaming alone would be terrible- then he’d probably be confined to his room for a  _month_. Or worse, sent back to his parent’s far-flung kingdom in the south as a failure; again, he thought of Keith. 

How did he even get himself into this mess? All he wanted was one midnight adventure, one small escape from court life with its oppressive rules, and eyes always watching him, and the war always hanging overhead.But then one night rolled into another, and the apprentice’s tunic he had snatched from the laundry room called him incessantly from the back of his wardrobe. He didn’t even remember when the petty pick pocketing began, or how long ago it was that Keith caught him.

 Lance tried not to groan aloud. Who knew, maybe the Gaian knight really had forgotten his face already; or, at least, he wouldn’t have the gall to question the Prince of Altea. 

The image of Shiro pinning his cousin with a sword flashed before his eyes. Maybe he  _did_ have the gall.

Suddenly, the towel flew from his head. Miri’s hand, soft but firm, lifted his chin. “Sit up now, Your Highness.” She met his gaze with a frown, seeming to sense his apprehension. Lance closed his eyes as she began running a wooden comb through his hair. “I’m sure your dinner will be lovely. And you must tell me if that warrior is really as handsome as everyone says-” Miri pursed her lips with a cheeky giggle.

Lance broke into a smile, relaxing under the older woman’s gentle touch. “I could have sworn you were married, Miri.”

“Ah!You’re right, Prince Lance-” She winked at him in the mirror- “Sometimes I forget.” 

A few minutes later Lance was standing at the center of the room, coiffed and dressed. He raised his chin as Miri draped a cloak over his shoulders, narrowing her eyes as she fidgeted with the clasp at his neck. Just as he heard the hook and eye catch, a snort escaped her. “Is there something you’d like to say, Miri?” Lance asked, catching the suddenly mischievous eye of his chambermaid. 

“Nothing, Lord Prince— I’m only glad your cape is high-collared-” She turned away, bending down to gather linens from the floor. He could hear the smirk in her voice. “-It seems you had  _quite_ the training session this afternoon.”

Lance’s hand flew to his neck, which he only  _just_ remembered was dappled with darkening bruises. His face began to burn, but he couldn’t help the grin that pulled at his features.  _Miri, you absolute dog._

* * *

Shiro released his breath in a tight sigh, but his fists remained clenched at his side. His ears strained to decipher what lay beyond the shadowy corner of the hall, masked by the echo of his rhythmic footsteps and the light fluttering of his cloak. There was no use trying to lighten his tread now; only the corridors of the eastern wing, where the living quarters were clustered, had tapestries to absorb the sound. 

As he approached the turn murmurs became more distinct and shadows thrown by flickering torch light morphed into distorted silhouettes. Shiro slowed his footsteps as he came upon the group.

They had certainly been waiting for him.

Three cronies, some knightly underlings Shiro didn’t recognize, pushed themselves away from the wall, folding their arms as they turned to glare at him. They grouped behind a bearded, broad-shouldered man- Lord Lubos. A western estate owner with a decent infantry under him, and a surly background presence at court. A smile dragged across his face but his eyes were cold and hard. His hand rested on the hilt of his sword.

“Good evening, Shirogane.” His breath reeked of stale wine. “We were hoping we’d run into you.”

Shiro quickly scanned each form; Lubos also carried a dagger, while two of his companions bore swords and the third concealed a knife in his boot. His mind flew back to his bedroom, where his dagger lay on a wooden chest, discarded among his training gear. Maybe he should have figured, in a kingdom such as this, to bring a sword to dinner.

“Good evening.” Shiro kept his voice even, low. “You’ll have to excuse me, Lord Lubos, but I have a dinner engagement that cannot be kept waiting.”

The knight with a scar across her cheek leaned forward. “No time, even for a quick chat?”

“Maybe he is ignorant of Altean hospitality customs,” interjected one with a raspy voice, “I’m sure he doesn’t mean to be so rude.” 

Slurred sneers rose from the group. Shiro’s nerves tightened.

“Perhaps another time, my Lord. If this is a military matter, we can discuss it at Her Majesty’s next meeting.” Shiro nodded, watching them carefully. He took a small step forward, but Lubos stepped up to block his path. They were of equal height, but Lubos easily had twice his bulk. 

Lubos’ smile dropped into a scowl. “I know what you are, Shirogane.” The name came out like a curse. “You may have fooled the rest of the court, but not me. Everyone else looked away at that stunt you pulled with the Queen, but I didn’t. You’re nothing more than a filthy Galra traitor, no better than a  _dog_.” With every word he leaned closer to Shiro, his breath stifling and heavy with alcohol. 

“I may be ignorant of Altean customs, but I know that you should watch your tone, Lubos.” Shiro held his voice steady as his mind raced to find some way to defend himself against four armed and intoxicated opponents.

A cold laugh rolled from Lubos’ chest, echoed in the snickering of his accomplices. He drew his sword with a slow metallic hiss. “You know what I think? I think we should see how the cripple manages with a leg to match his arm-”

“ _Lubos!_ ”

All heads turned at the sharp voice that rang down the hall. Coran strode toward them, hand wrapped around the hilt of his dagger and face all fury. Lubos sheathed his weapon but didn’t step back from Shiro until Coran was between them, pushing at the larger man’s chest.

“What in the fires of hell do you think you’re doing, Lubos?” Coran hissed. “Have you no shame, you drunken brute? Threatening a member of the court in the Queen’s own corridors!”

Lubos lowered his head slightly, keeping his eyes on Coran. His words gained some crispness as he sputtered, “You misunderstand, sir-”

“-I understand perfectly well. Now listen closely so there can be no mistaking my words— I am revoking your command of the Tenth Infantry, and if I see you skulking around these halls again tonight I will banish you to your paltry estate until winter thaws.” Coran’s gaze flickered to the three knights, all of them white as sheets. “Is that clear?”

Lubos’ eyes flashed, throwing a murderous glance at Shiro. He opened his mouth but closed it again, silently. “Yes, sir.”

“Go.”

There was a tense moment of hesitation, but Lubos and his gang turned and receded back into the shadowy hall. Coran turned to Shiro, who was breathing a great sigh of relief. 

“You have my thanks, sir,” Shiro bowed low at the waist, “I believe I may owe you my life- or, at least, my limb.” 

The faintest smile flickered over Coran’s face, a reaction Shiro did not expect. “Don’t think of it. Although, you might consider it wise in the future not to wander the night unarmed.” 

Shiro met his raised brow with another grateful nod. He tried to search Coran’s face for some motive, remembering the adviser’s attitude toward him only that morning, but found nothing. He didn’t have the audacity to ask outright, but Coran seemed to sense his question.

“Queen Allura trusts you. That is enough for me.” Coran smoothed his mustache with a gloved hand. “Speaking of which, you have somewhere to be, no? You should be going, Shirogane, before more trouble finds you.” 

Shiro bowed again, the corner of his lip twitching upward when he detected something like lightness in Coran’s tone. “Of course, sir- thank you, again.”

The men nodded and parted ways, Shiro continuing on toward the Great Hall. His nerves were calmed somewhat by the kindness shown toward him by Coran, but as he was not returning to his own quarters for a quiet meal, the pounding in his veins would not fade completely.


	6. Chapter Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shiro joins the royal table for dinner.

“If the guest of honor is missing then I may as well attend to somethi-”

“ _Lance_ ,” Allura warned, throwing her cousin a sharp look, “If you leave that seat I’ll have you on stable duty for a week. What is wrong with you? You’ve been trying to slither out of dinner all day!”

“I haven’t  _slithered_ anywhere-” Lance pulled at his collar, catching his lip between his teeth, “I just-”

“-What is this?” Allura cut him off, leaning over the table as she honed in on the shadowy bruises that covered his neck. “Did something happen during training? Are you hurt? How-” It clicked when Lance’s eyes met hers. She bit her tongue, embarrassed at her naivety. Trying to maintain at least some of her dignity, she adopted an imperious tone. “You must have had quite the afternoon, then?”

To her surprise, Lance, who ordinarily would ride into war under the banner of kissing and telling, merely shrugged and swatted her hand away. “It’s nothing,” he muttered, refusing to meet her gaze.

“La-ance _-_ ” The name now came out as a playful drawl, dignity out the window as she leaned over the table. Her cousin’s reluctance only spurred Allura’s mischievous grin. “Now don’t play coy, you must tell me! Who is this mystery girl?”

Before she could prod any further, the doors of the Great Hall opened and their guest swept into the room. Allura sat up, straightening into a more regal posture as she remembered her station. Shiro looked quite regal himself, dressed in a military jacket and cape— Allura couldn’t help the thought that it suited him just as well as his sleeveless training tunic. Lance, on the other hand, had suddenly taken on the complexion of a ghost, his fingers tapping wildly against the table. Allura threw him a worried glance but had no time to question him. She stood, calling, “Good evening, Shiro. Thank you for joining us.”

As he approached, a strange expression came into Shiro’s features. At first he met her words with a warm smile, but when his gaze flickered to her cousin it dropped into an odd mix of confusion and panic. His stride stuttered, and it was a long moment before his eyes returned to her. “I apologize for my lateness, Your Highness. I hope you didn’t delay dinner on my account,” he spoke graciously, bowing to her before taking the empty seat at her left hand. 

Allura found herself mirroring his smile when it returned. Some part of her was very gratified- to an extent that even surprised herself- to see him at her table. After a second she remembered to gesture toward her cousin, adding, “I believe you two have yet to meet- Shiro, my cousin, Prince Lance.”

Shiro nodded, his lips again dropping into a tight line. “An honor, Lord Prince. Forgive me for not seeking out the introduction earlier.”

Lance cleared his throat. His hands were now clasped in his lap, but his eyes couldn’t seem to decide where to rest. He waved his hand rather dismissively, “Yes, of course, it has been a busy time for all of us. And the night you arrived, I was in the uh- stables, overseeing the horses. It was raining that night, remember Allura? So the stable master needed help.” After that rather loud stream of consciousness was blurted out, Lance clamped his mouth shut with a nod and a smile.

Allura glared at him, eyes wide with anger and a thousand questions. The confusion had returned to Shiro’s face. Allura cleared her throat, taking a small sip from her water goblet. “It is a wonder you two didn’t run into one another, on the training pitch,” she said, trying to keep her tone conversational, “Shiro is a good friend of Keith’s, Lance.”

“Oh-” Color had come rushing back to Lance’s face, which now burned pink in the cheeks. “Yes, I saw you- I  _heard_ , from Keith, that you trained together often. But, we might not have recognized each other, anyway, no?” 

Shiro’s brow rocketed up, his head bobbing in a slow nod. Allura blinked rapidly at her cousin, fighting to keep her expression calm.

With all three of them staring at their plates and a taught silence beginning to stretch between them, she was beginning to regret ever pushing dinner; but Shiro finally cleared his throat to say, “I must say, I am a little surprised, Your Majesty.”

Her brow knit, “By what?”

“After this morning-” a glint came into Shiro’s eye as he nodded toward his table setting- “I didn’t think your ministers would allow me a knife. You must be feeling rather courageous.”

Allura tried for a moment to bite her tongue, but it was futile; when she saw Shiro’s mischievous look her head fell back with mirthful laughter that rose into the rafters. “Well, how else would we have our supper-time rematch?” she asked, meeting his gaze with twinkling eyes. Shiro chuckled with her, lips pressed into a satisfied smile.

It wasn’t until she reached again for her drink that she noticed the eyes of every minister at the table on her. Lance had froze with his goblet halfway to his mouth, glancing rapidly between Shiro and Allura. 

“Cousin, should I call the High Priestess?” Lance’s voice rang with a solemnity that only confused his dinner companions. 

“The High Priestess?” Allura raised a brow, “Whatever for?”

Lance set his goblet down heavily. “To document such a rare miracle— you  _laughed_ ,” a wicked grin spread over his face before Lance himself dissolved into laughter. 

Allura tsked, rolling her eyes. She said in an aside to Shiro, “You’ll soon discover Prince Lance is rather famous around the court for his  _attitude_.” She sighed, although unable to keep the smile from her face, “ _Teenagers_.”

“Oh, please,” Lance cut in, “I near twenty, Allura. You’ll be gray and weathered and still calling me a child.”

“I am alreadygray,” Allura snickered. 

She was happy to hear Shiro chuckling, unfazed by their antics. “Don’t worry, Your Highness,” he added with a crooked grin, “So am I.”

Something warm rose in her chest as their gazes held— she was thankful for the opportunity to compose herself when the kitchen staff descended on their table with trays overflowing with food. 

— “I must thank you again for the meal, Your Highness. My evenings are rarely so enjoyable.”

Allura clasped her hands behind her back, her skirts swishing as she took slow steps beside Shiro. “I am pleased to hear it. I enjoy having guests at my table- the conversation is always more lively.” She smiled up at him, her tone warm and genuine. 

“Conversation is easy, when you have a gracious hostess.”

Allura chuckled at his flattery, but was nevertheless pleased by his words. After a comfortable silence she asked, “How have you found your transition to court life? I know the change was rather sudden.”

Shiro cleared his throat, something like irony playing in his expression. “The court can be…tricky, but I’m learning. Truth be told, I think I owe most of my success to your efforts, Your Majesty. Some in the court are slow to trust, but I would be nowhere without your kind words.”

Allura blinked at him in surprise, meeting his serious gaze with raised brows. “Shiro-” She paused for a moment, contemplating the guilt that rose cold from her stomach. “I feel I cannot let you say such things without apologizing.”

“Apologizing?” A frown pulled at Shiro’s lips as he turned to Allura.

“Yes, something I’ll admit I don’t often do.” Allura unclasped her hands to wring them in front of her. “You must understand, these are uncertain times. As Queen, there are precautions I must take to protect myself, and my kingdom. I cannot afford to trust easily. However,” she glanced up at him through her lashes, “I regret how harshly I spoke to you, on the occasion of our first meeting.”

“Your Highness, you m-” Shiro started, gesturing earnestly toward her, but bit his tongue when she held up a hand.

“I was right to question you- but I was wrong to accuse you of cowardice.” Their pace slowed as they rounded the corner that led to Allura’s chambers. She stopped some feet before her door, turning to meet his dark, searching gaze. “I am gratified that your time in my court has proven you to be noble, indeed, Shiro. Should my influence over the lords work to ease the effect of my hasty words, take it as an extension of this same apology.”

Shiro seemed to be considering the set of her face, the wisdom in trying to refute her again. After a moment he exhaled deeply, eyes softening as his face fell into a smile. He dropped into a low bow. “You speak too highly of me, Your Highness, and are far too gracious. For that, I thank you.” As Shiro rose he took her hand in his, ever so gently brushing his lips over her knuckles. “Goodnight.” 

Allura’s hand floated in front of her as his touch retreated from her palm. “Goodnight,” she said softly. He nodded, his gaze flickering to hers one last time before he turned and disappeared around the corner. 

As if in a trance, she glided to her bedchamber door and slipped inside, where she was safe to press the burning skin of her hand against her beating chest. 

“ _Have a good evening?_ ”

In a flash Allura’s dagger was drawn, her blood gone still and cold— until she recognized the figure that draped itself over her plush armchair. 

“ _Lance_ ,” Allura sighed raggedly, clutching her chest, “I almost  _killed_ you!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (to be continued in the next chapter)


	7. Chapter Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance and Allura have a heart to heart; Allura's troubles at court increase, with one exception

“ _Have a good evening?_ ”

In a flash Allura’s dagger was drawn, her blood gone still and cold— until she recognized the figure that draped itself over her plush armchair.

“ _Lance_ ,” Allura sighed raggedly, pinching her brow, “I almost  _killed_ you!”

Lance only laughed, shifting to prop his feet on the low table. “It would have been worth it, for the look on your face.”

Allura scowled, resheathing her dagger as she stalked over to her vanity. “So what is the meaning of this?” she asked, sitting with her back to him. 

“Nothing in particular,” he drawled. Allura’s mood was rapidly dropping at the mischievous notes in his voice. “I was only wondering how long you’ve had feelings for Shiro?”

Allura froze in the act of removing her tiara, eyes flying to the back of her cousin’s head in the mirror. Had her chambers been smaller, the rapid beating that sprung in her chest surely would have given her away. After a moment she answered in a careful tone, “Really, Lance, your imagination runs away with itself. I have barely known the man two weeks! I respect him, that is all.”

“Please, no one clutchestheir chest like that from respect-” Lance had popped up from the chair, mocking her as he pressed his hands to his heart and fell into her bed with a theatrical sigh. “And were you anyone else I’d say you were flirting shamelessly all night,” he rolled over, propping himself up on his elbows to watch her in the mirror, “I mean, ‘ _You are noble, indeed, Shiro_ -’?” 

Allura set down her brush, whirling around to face him. “Were you listening at my door? Shame on you, invading a woman’s- the  _Queen’s_ \- privacy!”

“You’re still avoiding the question,” Lance said, unfazed.

Allura met his raised brow with pursed lips. “I will not be accusedof such things in my own bedchamber. What about yourself, parading your secrets around on your neck?”

At that Lance sighed, rolling onto his back. He gazed up into the bed’s canopy, chewing his lip and absently running a hand along his bruised skin. “We can strike a deal,” he finally offered, “Truth for truth.”

“Hm,” Allura considered it, leaving her vanity to sit on the edge of her bed, “That sounds fair.” She nudged Lance over, climbing up to sit with one leg tucked under the other. “You may go first,” she smirked.

Lance sighed, pushing himself up to sit cross legged with his back against the wooden bedpost. “Before I tell you, you must promise me you won’t be mad.”

Allura met his eyes, surprised to find them quite serious. “Of course, Lance,” she nodded, frowning slightly, “Why should I be mad?”

“Well, no reason, really, but-” His fingers picked at a loose thread in her comforter. “The person I’ve been seeing, sort of, it’s- Keith.”

Allura blinked. Her mind had at first gone to the pretty young woman in her guard, or the serving girl whose eye she had suspected Lance of catching, but—  _Keith_. It made perfect sense, once she head it; Lance’s sudden change in attitude toward his training lessons, the months since she had heard from him of a new flirtation, his secretiveness. “ _Oh_ ,” was the only word that came out as she was hit with a wave of her own ignorance. Her own voice came back to her, asking about the ‘mystery girl.’

Lance’s eyes flashed to hers, full of uncertainty. “Are you-?”

“Oh Lance,” Allura covered her face with her hand, “No, no- I have been an idiot. I just assumed- the last few times you told me about, they were women, so-”

A short laugh escaped Lance, who raised a sly brow at her. “So you forgot my ‘preference’?”

Allura sighed, reaching out for her cousin’s hand. “I’m sorry, Lance, I’m being just as awful as those old crones in the court, aren’t I?”

“Not nearly,” Lance smiled, “You haven’t thrown me out on my back yet.”

“Don’t talk like that-” Allura tsked. She sat back to survey Lance, who seemed to take the kingdom’s intolerance with more of a sense of humor than she. She smiled, filled with a sudden wave of pride for her cousin. “So,” she said, grabbing a pillow to wrap her arms around as she leaned forward, “When did this begin? Have I always been so blind or did this only just happen?”

“No, you’re not  _that_ oblivious,” Lance grinned, “It’s only been a couple weeks. There was something between us, when we first met, but Keith was shy- I think I intimidated him.” They both chuckled, a flush coming into Lance’s cheeks. “I don’t know, he just- keeps me on my toes, in a way I never imagined someone could. It seemed we were always between enemies and friends, until one day it just  _happened._ ”

“I have to say, this sounds a bit different from your previous… flings.” Allura searched his face with a raised brow, “Do you think it’s…?”

Lance waved away the rest of her sentence. “I have no idea. I’m sneaking around with my trainer, I haven’t thought that far into it. Plus I’m the- he’s-” A light sigh escaped him and he seemed to brush the thought away. 

An idea occurred to Allura, “Ah, now I understand your behavior toward Shiro- you don’t want him to find out?” 

Lance met her gaze with a strange expression, but nodded.

“So,” his disposition shifted rather suddenly as he clasped his hands and set a twinkling eye on Allura, “I believe I delivered on my end of the bargain.”

Allura groaned, briefly dropping her head into the pillow on her lap. “Must I?”

“You must!” Lance dropped onto his stomach, propping himself up on his elbows again. “The Queen is a woman of her word, is she not?”

“I’d happily forfeit the crown,” she grumbled, “But I suppose a promise is a promise.” She met Lance’s infuriatingly excited expression, scowling, “Yes, I may have developed something akin to  _feelings_ for Shirogane. That is all you’ll get.”

“Allura! Don’t be a miser-”

She chewed unhappily at her lip, angry at the fluttering that rose again in her chest. “Fine, Fine. There is little to tell, anyway. We don’t know each other well, but- he is different than I expected.”

“-You expected a grizzled old werebeast, too?” Lance flashed a grin, to which Allura could only roll her eyes.

“You know what I mean! All those rumors, legends about him…it’s entirely possible that he hides a part of himself, around me especially. Regardless, I can’t help but sense a kindred spirit in him.” She raised a hand to her warming cheek, sighing deeply. “But it’s best I put it completely from my mind. My ministers hardly trust him, the people are all afraid of a man with one arm, he has no title- and besides, how can I think of such nonsense at a time like this?” Her eyes glazed over, another breath leaving her slowly. “But when we sparred-”

“-You thought you might just as easily be cut by his chiseled jawline?”

“Lance,I swear on our ancestors-!”

A scuffled ensued that left Lance with a smarting mark on his arm and Allura triumphantly smoothing back her silver locks. “Miri’s words, not mine,” Lance pouted. 

“You’re both ridiculous,” Allura chided him, but the curl of her lips betrayed her amusement. “Now, that is certainly enough for tonight. You should be off to bed, before I have to scrub your mouth with soap.”

Lance conceded, retreating from the bed happy in having ruffled his cousin’s feathers. “We sure know how to make ourselves miserable, don’t we?” Allura laughed, agreeing with a bittersweet smile. He paused with his hand on the door, his tone dropping into something sincere. “Thank you for talking with me, Allura. This was almost like when we were kids. Remember?”

Allura chuckled, considering the memory. “Yes, almost. Goodnight, Lance.”

“Goodnight.”

* * *

“You usually insist on doing your own hair, Your Highness,” Rilna smiled as she gently slid a bejeweled pin through the front locks of Allura’s hair, securing them to the top of her head. “What is the occasion?”

Allura, thankfully, had enough composure to avoid blushing. “No occasion, really. I’ll confess it is partially born of my laziness this morning.” She smiled at her chambermaid in the mirror, “And my training session was cancelled, so practicality is no concern.”

This was a sentiment Rilna understood, not like that business of donning trousers and chain mail and throwing oneself into the fighting ring like a boar. But, of course, she expressed none of that. It was a long time passed since she ventured to so admonish the Queen. Rilna simply nodded, a smile pulling at her sharp face as she wove thin braids through the careful arrangement of Allura’s curls.

“Well, thank you again, Rilna,” Allura observed her locks with a pleased smile, nodding to the older woman, “You may go, I can handle everything from here.” Rilna bowed, giving her well wishes for the day and slipping into the hall.

Allura stood, sliding her tiara over her forehead as the door shut with a thud. After a moment of hesitation she reached into her vanity drawer to find the tinted balm that added a rosy glow to her lips. Now, in private concert with herself, she allowed herself to flush in the mirror. 

Allura pressed a hand to her cheek, embarrassed at the heat that met her palm. She chided herself, turning from her reflection.  _Like a schoolgirl, anticipating her debut ball._  

All the same, Allura couldn’t help her gaze returning to the mirror. Rilna had chosen her dress, a soft peach silk that laid well against her skin. Pleats spilled from beneath the corseted bodice, the neckline sloping just off her shoulders to trail into long sleeves.  A feeling rose in Allura’s chest that she seldom got to savor— and damn well deserved to. She clenched her jaw. So, for one day she wanted to feel more like a queen and less like a woman king? If it were such a crime, let her be dragged to the courts.

She smiled, just slightly, at her mirror before she turned and swept out of the room.

Almost immediately she was accosted by Coran, who paced just past her guard at the end of the hall with a sour expression. “Coran,” she called, “The sun has barely risen and already you look like you have been awake for days.”

“Ah, good morning, Your Majesty,” he bowed to her, mustache twitching at her comment, “Such is the way, when the powers that be curse you with a position like mine. You, on the other hand, look radiant.”

“Your curse is my blessing,” Allura smiled, sliding her arm into the crook of Coran’s elbow as he led her down the hall. “Now, let us go over the day’s catastrophes.” 

Coran sighed, meeting the young queen’s eyes. “Well, all jokes aside, Your Highness, there is one matter I must discuss with you before our briefing. Lord Lubos will not be joining us…”

Allura was almost out of breath by the time she reached the training pitch, but had she not hurried the anger that coursed hot in her veins would have released itself in rather unpleasant ways. 

As she swept into the lower concourse she was intercepted by her cousin, who appeared from the arcade that led to the viewing stands. “Allura!” He jogged over to her, falling into step beside her as she stalked back toward the bleachers herself, brow set.

“They are trying to bring down my kingdom, Lance.”

“What? Whom?” Lance’s brows knit in alarm.

“My court!” Allura cried as they walked into the sunlight. “That drunken, ass-headed fool! Do they not know that there is a war going on? That I have more pressing things to worry about?”

“Okay, okay, just-” Lance paused, knowing better than to end the sentence with ‘calm down.’ His glance flickered around them. “May we discuss this after the match? It might help ease your mind.”

“Match?” Allura blinked, the red fading from her vision as she looked around them. Every head of the smattering of ministers and soldiers in the stands was turned to them. She let Lance quickly lead her to a seat, but she didn’t understand the full meaning of his words until her gaze fell on the fighting ring.

Two figures stood opposite each other. One was lean, sporting a short black ponytail. The other was taller, stockier, pushing back a shock of white hair. A mosaic of scars wrapped around his bare torso, cutting through the muscles that tensed and flexed as the swordsman raised his weapon.

Allura seemed to have lost her voice beyond the word, “Oh.”

Lance sighed, his eyes fixed on the opposing fighter. “M-hm.”

Suddenly, Shiro’s face tilted upward and Allura met his dark eyes in the moment just before the match began. The thought occurred to her, as Shiro and Keith lunged at each other, that she was glad she allowed Rilna to do her hair. A deep flush flooded her cheeks. 

Collecting herself somewhat, although unable to tear her eyes away from the fight, Allura hissed, “Why are they bare-chested? It’s October, we’ll lose our best fighters to the wind!”

Lance made no answer.

The match lasted awhile, but by the end Allura had still not forgotten her purpose in coming to the pitch. Lance left her to lean over the balustrade further along the stadium’s curve, where Keith was looking up with a pleased smile. She rested her hands on the railing, catching Shiro’s eye- and breathing a sigh of relief when he stopped to don a tunic before coming to her.

“Good morning, Your Highness,” Shiro nodded to her, “You’ll have to excuse my appearance, I was unaware you’d be attending this morning.”

Something in the way he didn’t quite meet her eyes made her cheeks burn again. She cleared her throat, “It was an excellent match- longer than ours.”

A smile broke over Shiro’s face. “Keith is quite the opponent. He knows to exploit his own agility, not my lopsidedness.”

Allura’s laugh fell into a sigh. She tapped her hand against the rail, watching concern gather in Shiro’s features. “Shiro- I am afraid I must apologize again.”

He tucked his hand under his forearm. “As I said last night, Your Majesty, there is no need-”

“Coran told me about your confrontation with Lord Lubos. I was unaware last night, but I assure you he was censured appropriately-” She leaned further over the railing, her tone imploring, “I want to ensure that you feel safe at my court, Shiro. And I hope this will be my last apology to you.”

Shiro seemed to look past her for a second, but then he looked back at her with a gentle laugh. “You need not worry yourself so- I am more accustomed to this than you imagine. There was no harm done, and I could never bear ill will toward the Queen over such an incident.” A twinkling look that she recognized in her cousin came into Shiro’s eyes. “I believe your adviser is willing this conversation to an end, but it would honor me if we could continue it some other time. When I am no longer cloaked in the pitch dirt, perhaps?”

Allura looked over her shoulder, where Coran’s eyes were indeed boring into her. She turned back to Shiro, lips curling into a smile at the sight of his expectant expression. “Some other time, of course. Please, excuse me-”

With that, they parted. Allura’s nerves were soothed, and she was almost annoyed at Coran for pulling her away so soon, but his tone was solemn and urgent, forcing her to focus again as he ushered her back toward the Great Hall. 


	8. Chapter Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith finds his new assignment to be more complicated than he anticipated  
> (a flashback Keith/Lance chapter)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To clarify the timeline of this chapter:  
> The first part takes place about two years before the rest of the fic, the second about four months after that, the third a year after that (so a few months before the rest of the story)

Keith gave the hearth fire one last breath of air before he stepped away, dragging an arm across his forehead as he set down the bellow. He trotted into the store, pulling off his apron. 

“Master Xi, I’m leaving!” he called. There was no answer as the neck of the apron caught against the hook on the back wall. There was never an answer, anymore, unless the shopkeeper’s wife was awake this early before dawn. The shopkeeper himself kept mum on the days Keith left for the Castle- either from anger, or jealousy, or some strange type of pride in his apprentice. 

The thought occurred to him, as he walked past the sleepy village storefronts, that it was approaching the five year mark of his time under the Altean swordmaker. Five years since he had crossed from the Gaian border with one aunt, to be passed to another on the Altean side, to be passed finally to Master Xi. Almost nine years since his parents’ death. Three since the death of the King. One since he had begun training with the royal military. He could tick the years off like the notches that ran under his thumb on the hilt of his blade.

Keith sighed, shaking his head as he approached the great gate that separated the castle from the village. He had to focus. Today he took on his next assignment; trainer to Prince Lance, a new arrival at the Queen’s court.

His fellow swordsmen couldn’t say much about the character of the Prince, reporting that he hadn’t been seen around the Altean court for some time. So, Keith assumed the newcomer had a disposition similar to that of the Queen- fierce, diligent, maybe a little stubborn but ready to learn. 

But, as Master Xi was always reminding him, there was that old saying about assumptions—

“Where did they find you, anyway?” 

The question was asked brashly, accented by a sword pointed too close to his face for comfort. “I’m afraid I don’t know what you mean, Lord Prince,” Keith frowned, stepping out of the blade’s range.

An eyebrow shot up. “We must be, what, a year apart from one another? If that. And you’re scrappy, I would say gangling if I hadn’t seen you fight. You speak a little differently from the others. But here you are, entrusted with my training. So, where did my cousin find you?”

Keith’s brow knit, his countenance hardening against the lazy, curious prodding of the Prince. “That’s unimportant. What  _is_ important is your stance. It’s horrible.”

Lance just laughed, seeming to enjoy the challenge of Keith’s stoicism. “I told you, I’m an archer, not a swordsman.”

Keith ignored the comment, stepping close to nudge at the Prince’s foot with his. “Wider. If your stance is unbalanced, your enemy can knock you down without even drawing his sword.”

Lance looked up with a sly smile. “You have beautiful eyes, do you know that? Grey- you’re Gaian?” 

Keith’s breath caught in his throat as he met the clear, impossibly blue eyes that hovered just inches from his. They were like the Queen’s, but with a warmth Keith had never seen in the gaze of the young ruler. The lips, with their almost delicate curve, pulled into a wider smile. Keith felt a knot twisting in the pit of his stomach. 

His hand flew out, palm meeting the warm, firm plane of Lance’s chest.

With a sharp cry the Prince was pitched backward, landing roughly in the dirt. Keith turned his back, breathing sharply as he fought the heat in his cheeks. “As I said, Lord Prince, balance is important.” 

* * *

“You better watch it, boy, or I’ll have those hands flogged right off of you-”

Keith’s gaze snapped up at the vendor’s cry. The old produce seller was red with rage, holding an apple in one hand and the arm of an apprentice boy in the other. Keith withdrew his attention, dropping his eyes again to the barrel of vegetables.

“Get off, I’m no thief!”

The voice, even shrill and indignant, was immediately recognizable. Keith’s head whipped back over, his gaze met this time by a pair of blue eyes that seemed just as shocked as him. “Sir, Sir-” Keith dropped his bag, rushing over to where Lance,  _Prince Lance_ , was struggling to escape the hold of the clerk, “Please, I know him- just, let me pay for the fruit.” 

The man scrutinized him, hand still clamped around Lance’s wrist. Keith realized hisrecommendation of character didn’t mean all that much outside some of the knighthoods, but the clerk folded when he added, “I’ll throw in an extra silver piece, too.”

Now he had the Prince by the elbow, dragging him away from the stand. “What the hell is going on? What are you doing in the street, dressed up like this?” Keith hissed, eyes darting over the apprentice’s tunic- similar to his own, but odd to see on the young royal.

Lance squirmed under his stare, crossing his arms and muttering, “Nothing- I have no obligation to answer to you-”

Keith raised a brow. “Lord Pri-” he caught himself- “ _You_ do not have that card to play right now,  _apprentice_.”

A few minutes later Lance was following him begrudgingly into a dim tavern, where they slid into a corner table away from prying eyes.

Lance sighed. “Thank you for your help with the shopkeeper, but I would have been fine. He didn’t recognize me— hardly any of the common folk would. I didn’t think  _you_ would.”

Keith surveyed the prince, his eyes flickering in the light of the sconce that hung over them. He was struck by how regal Lance’s features were, even in such plain cloth; why Lance thought he would ever blend in easily, he couldn’t fathom. “You should have been more careful. Even if many people, it’s true, haven’t seen your face, you underestimate how the servant girls talk.”

That brought a smile curling over Lance’s lips. “Oh? And what do these servant girls say?”

They had been training together for months, long into the summer by now, but Keith was still unprepared for that expression, eyebrow raised and a sparkle in Lance’s eyes. He crossed his arms, like that would stop the pounding in his chest. “You’re still avoiding my earlier question. What possessed you to wander around the village unguarded?”

At that Lance’s smile dropped again into a scowl. “Like I said, I don’t need to explain myself to you. What do you care, anyway? You are just my trainer, right?”

That hit a nerve, deep down in a place neither of them had ventured to acknowledge yet. Keith chewed on his lip for a moment, answering carefully. “The goal of my training is to protect you. I wouldn’t want that to be undermined by something foolish.” Lance didn’t react, still staring at him with elbows propped on the table, muscles tensed. Keith sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I won’t report this to Queen Allura, if that changes anything.”

Apparently, it did. Lance’s postured collapsed with a deep breath, his expression softening somewhat. “Really? I can trust you, you’re not under some oath?”

“Well- not quite, but telling the Queen would be more likely to lead to my beheading than not.” 

Lance seemed to consider that, consider Keith, for a moment. Then he tilted his head and asked, “Keith, do you have any siblings?”

Keith blinked. “No, I was an only child.”

“Hm,” Lance hummed, tapping his fingers against the table. “I have five. Two older, three younger.” There was a beat of silence. He spoke again, “Do you know why I was sent here, to Altea?”

Keith shook his head, watching the Prince closely.

Lance continued slowly, “My brothers and sisters are all very capable. I, on the other hand, have little skill in war-making, no inclination for overseeing estates. Shit with the sword, as you have seen. If I were a woman, I probably wouldn’t be able to sew, or cook. And, as my parents say, they already have a court jester. So here I am, Allura’s problem now.“ He smiled, “I did this at home, when court life was getting oppressive.”

Keith mulled over his words, one brow raised incredulously. Forgetting himself, he said bluntly, “So, you just have some kind of middle-child complex?”

To his surprise, Lance only laughed. “Yes, I guess you’re right.” He leaned over the table, getting uncomfortably near Keith’s personal space with that grin, “You know, I like it when you’re honest. It suits you.”

Keith stood suddenly, his face burning. He unclasped his cloak from around his shoulders, dropping it onto the table. “Here. I have to go- my master is waiting for me- but this should help you get back to the Castle.” He didn’t wait for the Prince’s reaction, weaving his way through the tavern without looking back.

* * *

“- _Lance_ ,” Keith reprimanded, his tone flat but his heart racing.

Lance’s breath tickled the back of his neck, sending a shiver down his spine. Keith could feel the warmth radiating from Lance’s chest, barely an inch from his back. Lance’s hand, smooth and soft, crept up his wrist to wrap around his own. Now they were both holding the bow, an arrow notched and the string pulled taut. Keith was finding it harder to concentrate on his aim with Lance’s scent wafting enticingly through the late summer air.

“Sorry,” Lance’s voice hummed from just behind his ear, “I forgot- professionalism.” He couldn’t see Keith’s lips purse. “Now, release.” The arrow flew quick and true, landing with a satisfying thunkin the center of the target that sat across the field. Lance drew away, his eyes flickering approvingly between Keith and the bow in his hand. “I always say, archery training is superior to swordsmanship- more  _hands-on_.”

Keith threw him a sour look, but his cheeks betrayed him. Lance was always like that, relentlessly teasing and flirting, ever since the evening they had shared a month ago. 

The memory was still fresh in Keith’s mind. Their training session had lasted through the afternoon, and when evening came they caught their breath sitting against the field’s wooden fence and broke bread together. As the sun sank and the sky began to glow pink and red their banter settled into low, intimate tones. They talked, really talked, for what seemed like hours. Lance’s bravado melted away, and beneath it Keith found a heart more open and sincere than he had ever encountered. Keith ended up sharing what few knew; he was gay. Lance, in kind, told him his preference for both men and women.

Finally, with only the last light of dusk coming through the distant trees, Keith knew he had to return to the Castle, to real life. But after he stood up slowly, he couldn’t seem to tear himself away. The pounding in his chest that came whenever he met Lance’s gaze paralyzed him; so instead of walking away, he did something very, very stupid. 

He kissed Lance. He cupped Lance’s face in his hands and kissed his soft lips before his head could catch up to his heart.

Then, as quickly as it started, it was over. Keith pushed back against Lance’s chest, dizzy now in the summer heat. Before Lance could say a word Keith pulled off his arm guard and tossed it beside the bow, striding silently toward the Castle path. The Prince’s scent still lingered on him.

Keith clung to the tactility of his boots striking hard gravel to assure himself that it was all real. Had he, a landless Gaian orphan, really just grabbed the Altean Prince and  _kissed_ him? It sounded mad, even in his head. He heard a voice calling after him in the distance but he kept walking, too overwhelmed to stop.

Now, three weeks and a few more kisses later, the memory still felt like a dream to Keith. But there was Lance, grinning rakishly at him and reaching out to cup Keith’s chin in his hand.

Keith swatted his hand away. “Can you take this at all seriously?” he grumbled, “You are going to get us caught.”

Lance’s expression faltered. “Did I say something wrong?”

“Look, we don’t have to know exactly what this is right now, but…people here already think I don’t belong,” he said, “I’m not just doing this for laughs. There are real risks, don’t you see?”

Lance sighed, frowning as his gaze panned over the horizon. After a moment he said, “I suppose I understand. I’ll be more discreet.” The corner of his lip tugged upward as he gave Keith a sly look. “But I see no one around right now…can I still kiss you?”

Keith couldn’t help but smile. “You may.”


	9. Chapter Seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Against her better judgement, Allura finds a new source of comfort as winter approaches and the war worsens.

Almost mid November. Altea was on the cusp of winter, and even the Castle, its windows groaning against the wind, seemed to be affected by the anxiety with which the court went about its final autumnal business.

Her annual survey of lands was pushed back and back as the Galran War bleakened with the season. Allura had vowed not to send another soul north, where winter snows had already begun to fall, but with every foot of territory lost to the Galra the situation became more and more desperate. Her days had long been forfeited to the war, Coran following her with a constantly rotating entourage of generals and ministers. Every day- no, every hour- seemed to bring a new crisis.

Allura found two comforts in these weeks. One was her training sessions, when all her stress, and fear, and anger could be inflicted upon her unfortunate trainer (or an unfortunate scarecrow, whichever was present at the pitch when she stormed in.) Occasionally, when she was in a lighter mood, Allura interrupted her cousin’s training sessions— to test his growing skill, and to watch his blood boil indignantly.

The other, ~~and more important,~~ one was the nightly walks to her bedchamber with Shiro after their briefing sessions. Each evening in those twenty minutes, thirty if they lingered outside her door, she found him to be more of a confidant and kindred spirit. And although she knew it was irresponsible, that it would only lead to more pain further down the road, she allowed herself to lean into the comfort, the warmth, that his company gave her. Besides Coran, her court was not happy about their growing intimacy— and neither, if the increasing curtness of their communications were any indication, was the Gaian court— but, as Allura reminded herself, she was allowed some small solace.

Now she wandered the halls alone, almost wishing her briefing hadn’t been cancelled that night. She far preferred the somber conversation of her generals to the maddening silence that plagued her as she signed condolence letter after condolence letter, making a new widow with each signature. Allura sighed, trying to think of something else, but the dull ache in her hand wouldn’t let her forget. Even allowing her thoughts to turn to Shiro did little to help. Her ministers had been pestering her, complaining that their Gaian guest would not give up his information on the Galra, that he was feigning ignorance.

Shiro didn’t say much about it to her, but Allura suspected that his time in the Galra prison affected him much more than he let on. She wondered if he remembered much of anything. She saw how he flinched sometimes at a sudden noise, or a phantom twinge in his right side. She heard the whispers of the servant girls, who in the daytime giggled if they met Shiro’s gaze, but at night scurried past his room to spread stories of the cries that echoed in his chambers. A comment, made one night as they discussed the old orchard that had fallen into his hands, echoed in Allura’s mind. “The trees do not mind my night terrors, at least,” he had said, smiling wryly.

She sighed again, beginning to feel overwhelmed by the weight that pressed on her chest. When she heard footsteps echoing from the other end of the hall, Allura decided she didn’t possess near enough energy to navigate an encounter with anyone of her court. Although it was late fall and all she had was a few layers of cotton between her skin and the chilling night wind, Allura slipped through the nearest pair of doors and out onto a balcony.

She was hit immediately by the bracing cold. The flames that danced behind glass sconces threw little heat over the balcony, and the lights of the village, usually twinkling warmly at the Castle, felt cold and far. Indeed, Allura felt closer to the full moon that loomed above her than to the town below. She closed her eyes, letting its silver light wash over her. Thoughts of her father, still real and warm and alive in her memory, and her mother, that anonymous woman who smiled out at her from the painting above her vanity, rose from the storm that brewed in her chest. It was too cold to cry, but she sent a longing prayer up to the sky.

Allura shuddered. Her teeth had begun chattering in bodily protest, but her mind was beginning to clear in the crisp air. Her eyes were still closed when she heard the balcony door creaking open.

“ _Oh-_ ”

She turned, immediately recognizing the voice. “Shiro-” She composed her expression into a soft smile. “Good evening.”

He had paused with his hand on the edge of the door, looking at her with a strange expression. Eyes wide, mouth open; not quite surprised, but like he was transfixed by something. He looked young in the moonlight, Allura thought.

Shiro cleared his throat. “Good evening, Your Majesty. I’m sorry, it wasn’t my intention to disturb you- the door was open, there was a draft in the hall-”

“Not to worry,” her smile spread, “There is nothing to disturb.”

“May I?” He gestured toward the railing and Allura beckoned him forward.

The warmth radiating from him as he joined her sent a shiver running down her spine. She rubbed at her arm, reminded again of the season. Almost immediately Shiro reached up and began fiddling with the clasp of his cloak. Allura protested, “Oh, Shiro, please, I can’t-”

“I don’t think _anyone_ would forgive me if I allowed you to die of the cold, Your Highness,” he smiled, cheekily, and pulled at the fabric.

She acquiesced with a grateful nod, reaching to help him nestle the cloak over her shoulders. It was overwhelming for a moment, being wrapped in his warmth, his scent. She pulled the thick wool tight around her and hoped the flush in her face wasn’t too noticeable. “Thank you. You are too kind.”

He nodded and turned his gaze to the sky, allowing Allura to watch his profile. “The moon is beautiful tonight,” he said, voice low. Evidently falling into as pensive a mood as she.

“Yes, it is,” she hummed. Earlier thoughts threatened to catch in her throat so she stopped there, looking down at her hands.

Shiro caught her tone. “Is something wrong?”

Allura pulled at one of the braids that ran through her hair, examining it in the light. “Nothing really, just— this is supposed to an ‘ _auspicious time’_ for me, according to the High Priestess. You’ve heard the legends, I’m sure. But-” A heavy sigh escaped her- “I always find myself thinking of my parents, wishing that they could be here.” She raised a hand to her cheek, not wanting to meet his gaze. “I know it’s childish, but with everything going on, part of me longs for their guidance.”

“You shouldn’t be ashamed, Your Highness.” Shiro turned to her, his voice genuine and concerned. “Even someone in your position- especially someone in your position- is bound to feel lost sometimes. Although, I confess, I’m not sure what you mean by _legends._ ”

“You really haven’t heard them?” Allura tilted her head, a smile now playing over her lips. Something about that pleased her, his not knowing. “It’s a long story, and frankly a little embarrassing for me.”

Shiro laughed, leaning against the balustrade with a raised brow. “I have no engagements until the morning, if you are willing to tell it.”

She paused, considering. After a moment, she told him. There was the solemn part, of course, the part that had been haunting her that night. But once past her mother’s death, the story became a more humorous one, with Shiro at least. He mirrored her smile as she told him of the cult that had somehow emerged from her birth, her supposed connection to the full moon, the rumors of her spiritual abilities.

“Had I known I was angering the lunar powers, I never would have agreed to spar with you,” Shiro grinned.

Allura laughed, relieved to feel the tension in her nerves receding. Shiro seemed to have that effect on her. “No one in the court really believes it, but it makes a good story for the tapestries. You would be surprised, though, by how many of my subjects, out in the country, have taken to the idea. When I ride by, on my visits to the lords, they all reach out, trying to touch my hair.”

“I can see why some would believe it easily.” Shiro was still smiling softly, but his voice was lower, with a kind of intensity behind it. “Your appearance can be— striking, at first.”

“Oh-” Heat flooded her cheeks. Her eyes dropped to the valley that spread before them, then flickered back to his face, sharp and handsome in the moonlight. “You can be intimidating, too.”

“Ah, yes,” Shiro chuckled, suddenly amused, “There was a village I lived in, before I settled here- the villagers took one look at me and decided I was some kind of werebeast.”

“A _werebeast?_ ” Allura blinked, remembering her cousin’s use of the same words.

“Yes- actually, if I remember correctly, there was a full moon the night I arrived.” He tilted his face to the sky. “I guess it was an auspicious time for me as well.”

“Well I certainly didn’t mean you look like a _beast_ ,” Allura frowned. She wondered if that was what drove him so far from the edge of the village, with only the trees and his nightmares. “The way people talk is shameful.” Her fists clenched. “I am not always bothered by the myths, but sometimes it feels disrespectful. Like they would rather create a legend out of the living than memorialize the dead. The legacy of my parents almost feels tarnished, because of these silly stories.”

Shiro was watching her, his face falling into something serious as she spoke. He nodded slowly. After a moment he said, “You know- if I may, Your Highness, I remember the day your father passed.” He waited until she nodded slowly to him. “I was an officer in the Gaian army then, just transferred back to the main camp, a little ways outside the capital city. There were hundreds, maybe thousands, in the camp. We were all rowdy and wild, fresh off a victory in a Galra colony— but when they announced that King Alfor had died in battle, you could hear a pin drop. Everyone was silent. We were all shocked, devastated. It was like we had lost one of our own, truly. I remember our King wearing a black arm band for weeks.” His hand reached forward, resting just short of hers on the railing. “And I know others, in every kingdom, had the same experience that day. That was the kind of respect your father commanded- _that_ is his legacy. And you certainly honor him in your rule, Your Majesty.”

Allura blamed the wind for the moisture that rose in her eyes. “Thank you, really, you don’t know how much that means to me.” She took a slow breath, collecting herself with a smile. “And Shiro,” she pulled his cloak tighter around herself, “You may call me Allura, when we’re- alone.”

His surprise was evident at first, but when he bowed his head to her a pleased smile spread over his lips. “Thank you, Your H— Allura.”

 _Allura_.

She felt a thrill in her veins when she heard her name in his low timbre. The wild beating in her chest compelled her to close the distance between their hands. His skin was calloused but warm beneath her palm. He met her eyes, and after a moment she withdrew her hand again.

“What about you, Shiro?” she asked, turning to look back down at the village but peeking at him in the corner of her eye, “You don’t speak of your family- if I’m not prying-”

“No, no, don’t worry,” Shiro chuckled to put her at ease, but his voice was tired. “It’s a rather somber story, is all.”

“It’s not as if I have been regaling you with mirthful tales,” Allura said.

He ran his hand through his hair, tilting his head in consideration of her words. He sighed and began, “Well, my father was a commander in the army. Not very prominent, but capable enough. He died when I was young, a sudden illness, so for most of my life it was just me and my mother. As I understood it she didn’t have much extended family, but our village was kind to us, and we managed to get by without him. When I joined the military she was so proud- she spoke as if I would surpass my father.” The youth that had smoothed his face earlier was gone, the deep creases returning as his voice grew weary. “I don’t know if my mother is even still alive, but- my reputation back home is ruined. If I saw her again it would only bring her more hardship.”

“Shiro,” Allura reached out, eyes full of feeling as she laid a hand against his shoulder, “I know your people’s customs about these things are harsh, but I am sure that if she knew, she would understand. Surely, she cherishes your memory.”

“Yes, maybe. I am grateful, at least, for the years we had. Everything is so different now.” He met her gaze, lips pressed together as his eyes searched for something in hers. “I wonder, sometimes, if she would recognize me.”

Allura’s eyes raked over his form. She wondered if he was thinner than he had been, if he was still filling out after his time in the Galra camp. She was certain, of course, that some things were different; the shock of white that coursed through his hair, the right sleeve of his shirt folded up and pinned above the elbow, the raised scar that cut over the bridge of his nose. In the moonlight she could see other scars, small ones, that she hadn’t noticed before. One on his jaw, another through his eyebrow, one on his collarbone that disappeared under his shirt. She wondered if there were more scars that she couldn’t see, telling stories she didn’t know. It was a strange thought- she pushed it away.

Shiro’s dark eyes were still on her. Allura reached up, fingers crossing slowly through the cold air between them. His eyes fluttered closed as her fingertips came to rest gently over his scar. She followed it, horizontal across his face.

Then he was looking at her again and his hand came up to fold around hers. This time neither of them pulled away. Allura’s lips parted, but she didn’t say a word. He brought his lips to her knuckles, softly. “I misspoke earlier. You are always striking, Allura.”

She hadn’t realized how close they had gotten. Their hands, now held to his chest, were the only thing between them. She could feel his breath, steady and warm, against her wrist— it was only then that she noticed hers was held tight in her chest. As she exhaled, slowly, they leaned closer to each other. His nose nuzzled against hers. She heard his breath hitch.

Every part of her was crying, screaming to close that last electric inch that kept them apart, but Allura paused. The list she had ticked off to Lance, all those long weeks ago, forced its way into her mind. Her court didn’t trust him, her people didn’t like him, her title was far above his. She was the Queen. She had duties, responsibilities. He was probably running through his own list that very moment.

There were so many reasons she shouldn’t have; but, in spite of it all, she did. His kiss was tender, sweet, and soft, tasting faintly of the wine served at dinner. He wrapped an arm around her waist, drawing her flush against his chest. She reached up, clinging to the nape of his neck, suddenly hungry for the feeling of his lips against hers. His hand left her back to bury in her hair as she sighed, falling deeper into their kiss. His stubble was rough against her skin but she savored the friction. When he pulled away she leaned forward again, pressing her lips slowly against his. And again. And again. She could feel him smiling, a chuckle rumbling from his chest.

Allura leaned her forehead against his before pulling reluctantly away with a sigh. Shiro reached for her hand again, entwining their fingers. “I must leave in the morning, Shiro,” she breathed, “Unless a great flood comes and cancels my survey of the lands once and for all.”

“We can only hope-” His eyes were still lingering on her lips. “-Or else I’ll miss our walks.”

She smiled, taking a deep breath as the pounding in her veins began to slow again. “It will be nearly a month before I return. Coran will remain here for the duration of it, to oversee the court. Maybe you should take this opportunity to see to your estate, before winter settles.”

“Of course, Your Majesty.” He gave her a crooked grin.

Allura’s gaze lingered on his before she pulled his cloak off her shoulders. Shiro bent down so she could drape it over him, refastening the clasp around his neck. “Goodnight, Shiro,” she murmured.

“Goodnight, Allura.”

Her hand slid slowly from his chest and she disappeared into the hall, leaving him to gaze up at the full moon with a smile.


	10. Chapter Eight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith and Lance suffer from a frustrating lack of privacy in the Castle; Lance learns something from the Castle staff

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What do you do when you have writer's block?  
> Write a plotless Klance chapter to buy you time before the next one ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯  
> It's fluffy, enjoy!

Normally, Keith was not a fussy man. He was never bothered by the coarse fabric of his clothes, or the straw mattress he slept on in his apprentice’s nook. He would admit, however, that there was something to be said about the luxury of goose feathers and fine linens. But maybe it was just the company he kept in his new- and temporary- Castle quarters, that gave him such satisfaction. After all, his little nook at the shop was no place for the Prince of Altea; Keith just couldn’t imagine him sitting on the edge of his bed, drawing him close, their lips meeting as they fell back into the plush, his hands buried in his hair, sliding across his chest—

But of course, the Castle came with its own drawbacks, like the sudden, rasping knock at the door.

Lance cursed under his breath as Keith gestured him toward the closet in the corner of the room. As Lance tried to shove himself inside as silently as possible, Keith nimbly buttoned his shirt and smoothed back his hair. “One moment,” he called, shooing Lance’s hand back from the wardrobe door.

Keith yanked the door open to find Shiro blinking at him with raised brows. They stared at each other as awkward seconds ticked by, the silence only broken by Keith’s rapid breathing.

Finally Keith collected himself, stretching out an arm to lean nonchalantly against the doorway, “Shiro, you’re back! And you have a beard now, that is, uh- new. How is your orchard? How did you know where my new quarters are?”

Shiro frowned, rubbing his hand against the dark stubble that now shadowed his face, a product of travel, impending winter, and laziness. “Are you alright, Keith?”

“What? Yes, of course,” Keith sputtered, “Why wouldn’t I be? Are  _you_ alright?” He wrinkled his nose. “And why do you smell like a horse?”

Shiro folded his hand under his residual arm, asking pointedly, “Why is your face crimson?”

Keith scowled, then sighed and moved out of the door frame, gesturing to Shiro. “Very well, come in.”

“I’m sorry if I- interrupted something,” Shiro cracked a smile. For all his stoic focus in the ring, Keith was easily defeated outside of battle. “Is he-?”

“Yes, he is here,” Keith sighed again. He called to the room, “Lance, you can come out. It’s only Shiro, he knows.”

A head came bursting out of Keith’s wardrobe, and then the rest of Lance came tumbling out with a strangled cry. “ _Augh-_ ”Lance grunted, pushing himself off the floor and untangling himself from the shirts that had tumbled out with him. Breathless, he turned to Keith with a red face. “He  _knows?_ ”

In a tone he had obviously used before in a similar conversation, Keith cried, “You told the  _Queen!_ ” He rolled his eyes. “And besides, he knows about your- outings, and never said anything.”

Shiro tried not to smirk as he bowed quickly to Lance. “Lord Prince.”

Lance bit his lip, barely making eye contact with Shiro as he tried to quickly button his vest. “Yes, yes, I suppose you’re right. But we cannot let anyone else find out! Just us, Shiro, Allura-” His voice suddenly trailed off- “And Miri…”

Now it was Keith’s turn to whirl on Lance. “ _Miri?_ Your chambermaid?” Keith pinched his brow. “ _Lance_ -”

“I  _know_ , but there is nothing to worry about! Miri wouldn’t say anything, at least not to any of the servant girls, God forbid-”

Shiro cleared his throat then, eyes flickering between the two young men. “Well, I should be going- Keith, when you find the time, I would like your training report from my absence.”

After Shiro left, Lance waited with his ear pressed to the door. “I think the hall is clear,” he said, turning to Keith, “I guess I’ll see you tomorrow for training, then.”

Keith crossed the room, his expression softening as he took Lance’s hand. “No more close calls, alright?”

“Yes, Master Kogane,” Lance smiled coyly.

Keith smirked, “Don’t say that too loud, Master Xi is already upset with me for agreeing to stay the week at the Castle. But thank you, Lord Prince.” He leaned in, meeting Lance’s lips once, softly, before drawing away and watching the prince slip into the hallway.

* * *

The Castle loved a good scandal. The life force of the court was practically sustained by it. The nobles tried to keep the untoward details of their lives under wraps, but it only took one pass through the kitchen to learn exactly whose estate was failing, or who had had an illegitimate child with who. Between the servants, men and women, and some of the lower knight rankings, there had developed a widespread and surprisingly complex system of gossip distribution.

Lance had never minded it before. In fact, after word about the first of his trysts with a lord’s daughter had spread far and wide, he discovered (to no one’s surprise) that he quite enjoyed being the center of the Castle’s attention. After all, how does one build a reputation except through the word of the people?

But that was a before, when there was all reward and no risk. With Keith, things were different; this time, there could be consequences for their relationship- real ones. Lance had decided long ago that this was different than any of his previous flings, and thus he was not eager to see it burst into flames. But what greater scandal could there be than the Prince of Altea having an illicit affair with his trainer? He shuddered at the thought.

But those were worries, dark anxieties to keep him up late in the night. Afternoons, such as the particularly frosty one he had just left for his fire-warmed quarters, called for brighter thoughts. Like how Keith’s status as his trainer, that scandalous detail, also gave them a perfect cover.

_Keith, might we discuss the details of my training in a more suitable location than the frozen training pitch?_

_Of course, Lord Prince, allow me to accompany you inside._

And just like that they were in his bedroom, a few feet of stone and a heavy wooden door between them and the prying eyes of the rumor mill.

Some days he would have pinned Keith to the wall the instant the door hit its frame, hands grabbing needily and lips meeting hungrily. But, that day, it was enough to fall into bed next to one another, exhausted from the day’s training.

“You are improving, you know,” Keith murmured, reaching over to absently trail his finger over Lance’s collar.

“Really?” Lance sighed, “My muscles are still screaming, from the effort.”

Keith chuckled, throaty and low, “Because you ignore the additional regime I recommended.” His smiled, his eyes flickering to Lance’s. “But, yes, really. Your footing is sure, now, and your reflexes are excellent. You just need to follow through.”

“Yes, sir,” Lance smirked. Keith rolled his eyes, then let his lids drop with a sigh.

It was one of those moments Lance could have paused to revel in forever. The afternoon sun filtered through the glass window to dance over Keith’s face, catching the thick lashes that fluttered as his eyes closed. Lance reached out, marveling at how perfectly his hand fit around Keith’s, warm against the sword maker’s cool skin. The only sound was their soft breathing. Lance rolled forward, gently catching Keith’s chin under his finger. Keith’s lips were chapped from the winter wind, but Lance didn’t mind as he slowly met their familiar pressure. Keith sighed, an exhale and a little noise in the back of his throat. Lance could feel their legs entwining as Keith moved closer to him.

“ _Um, Prince Lance?_ ”

Lance’s eyes flew back open at the sound of sharp knocking and a timid voice at the door.

That was the other thing about Castle life— there was about as little privacy as Lance had had back home, in much smaller court with many more siblings.

Keith scrambled up out of bed, hissing, “Do we  _ever_ get a break?”

Lance pressed a finger to his lips, practically shoving Keith into the bathroom. At least this time there was no redressing to be done.

When he cracked the door, he found a pair of wide green eyes blinking at him from over a large wicker laundry basket. The girl curtsied, barely meeting his eyes as she said, “I apologize, Prince Lance, if I have woken you.”

Lance frowned, opening the door a little wider but holding his place in the doorway, “Not to worry. Did Miri send you?”

“Um, no-” The girl seemed to be trying to look past him, as if he should have invited her in already. “It’s wash day, Lord Prince.”

“Wash day?” Lance reached out to tip the basket, half full of linens, toward him.

“Yes,” she nodded, “Wednesday, Lord Prince.” Her lip dropped when he reached for her basket, jumping almost imperceptibly, as if he had touched  _her_. Her eyes flickered to his. She ventured, “Are you feeling well, Prince Lance? Your face is flushed.”

Lance blinked, watching the servant girl’s cheeks grow pinker and pinker under his gaze. Suddenly, he was struck with an idea he wondered hadn’t come to him sooner. “Your concern is touching,” a smile curled over his lips as his voice slipped into a velvety tone, “I feel quite well- it’s only that I did not expect the knock at my door to come from a girl so charming as yourself. You’ve caught me quite off guard.”

“Oh-” The girl squeaked, her face positively crimson now.

“I understand, of course, that you have an important task- but, if it’s not too much trouble, could I bother you to return to my quarters in an hour or so? I would be greatly in your debt.” 

“Of-of course, Lord Prince,” she nodded, still staring up at him with wide eyes.

Lance’s smile spread deviously as he reached down to gently take her hand in his, brushing his lips against her knuckles. “You are quite gracious, milady. Many thanks.”

With another squeak and a curtsy, the girl dashed around the corner and Lance closed the door on an empty hallway. He turned to Keith, who had crept out of the bathroom. “The coast is clear,” he said with a grin.

To his surprise, Keith crossed his arms tightly over his chest, scowling, “That was disgusting. You’re absolutely shameless.”

Lance’s brow knit. “What are you talking about? You said no more close calls- she’s gone, what’s the problem?”

“You’re the  _Prince_ , Lance! And Sadie’s a servant girl- and an idiot, at that. You shouldn’t toy with her like that.” 

“An idiot? And  _I’m_ bad?” Lance let out a sharp sigh. “Would you rather she have caught us? What then?” Lance tried to soften his voice, but Keith was still glaring at him. “Come on, Keith,” Lance held out his hand, taking a step toward him with a smile, “I flirt with them all the time, what is the harm? You know it is  _your_ hand I would rather be kissing-”

Keith swatted away Lance’s hand, striding past him. “Like I said, you’re shameless.”

Before Lance could get in another word Keith yanked open the door, not bothering to check the hall before he stormed out of the room.

* * *

“I tried to look during dinner, but I didn’t see any-”

“I  _told_ you it wasn’t true!”

“And how were you supposed to see them during dinne _r_? Listen, Lydia said she can get us into the pitch when he’s training-  _then_ you can see them!”

“-You would go on scrubbing duty in the training pitch to see something that isn’t even there?”

“You’re a skeptic, Lila, but I know it! The Prince has  _boils!_ ”

“I don’t know, Poppy, you also believed that cook who told you the Queen had a horsehair wig-”

“That was  _years_ ago-!” A chorus of giggles broke out before the voice spoke again, “Anyway, you two would believe it if you weren’t still so hung up on the Prince. I, for one, have my eyes set on that handsome knight-”

“The Gaian?”

“He  _is_ handsome, but- that arm-”

“Who cares? I bet he can do more with one hand than most men can do with one-”

Another round of girlish laughter rose from the group, mixing with the clattering of dishware as they set to their task.

Around the corner from the storeroom, a young man in apprentice’s clothes, his form mostly hidden by a cloak and heavy scarf, pressed himself against the wall with a gaping, indignant expression. Should someone familiar with the Castle and its residents have stopped to examine the figure more closely, scrutinized the flashing blue eyes, they would have identified him as Prince Lance. 

He might not have been able to stop himself from storming into the pantry, had the low bong of the clock tower not announced the beginning of the new hour. Lance cursed under his breath, begrudgingly slipping away toward a side door; he was late.

It was the second of December, meaning the Queen would be arriving within the fortnight. The winter weather made the particulars of her schedule uncertain, but Lance knew his cousin would rather rush home than be snowed in at some lord’s estate. As such, Lance was feeling the pressure to enjoy his last days of relative freedom before he was back under Allura’s watchful eye. 

So there he was, rushing toward the tavern shoved into a side street in the village, his breath filtering through his scarf in a puff of steam. A waxing gibbous shined down on the cobblestone streets, an effect Lance would have appreciated had it not given more light by which his person could be identified.

Even after he met Keith at their usual table in the back corner, the conversation he had overheard in the Castle still rang in Lance’s ears. If there had been anyone on whose admiration Lance could rely, it was the serving girls. He was like- well,  _royalty_ among them. But now it seemed  _Shiro,_ of all people, was becoming a favorite. Sure, he  _was_ attractive, but where was the charm? The panache? And what was that business about  _boils?_  Lance scoffed into his beer.

“Lan-  _Levi_ , are you alright?” Keith leaned over the table, using the pseudonym they had agreed on earlier, “You’re mumbling like a madman.”

“ _Boils_ , Keith,” Lance hissed, throwing a hand up in the air, “The staff thinks I have  _boils_. And some of them even think that  _Shiro_ is more handsome than me! It’s blasphemous-”

Keith interrupted him with a snort. “I am sorry-” He waved his hand dismissively, trying to bite back his laughter- “But boils? They really bought that one?”

Lance’s jaw dropped, this whole body tensing like he had been shot through with an arrow. “Keith. Do you know something about this?”

Keith didn’t answer right away, taking a slow draw from his glass. He met Lance’s eyes slyly. “I may…have had something to do with that rumor. But I expected the fungus story to catch on better-”

“ _Keith_ -” Lance gasped, his eyes wide and flashing. “This is all a jest, right? You would never betray me- my  _reputation_ \- like that-”

“What can I say?” Keith shrugged, “I dislike competition.” A mischievous smile curled over his lips as he leaned over his drink, voice low. “We must always be so secretive, and the way those girls fawned over you- and  _you_ certainly did nothing to discourage them- and well…I couldn’t help myself. You got involved with a jealous man.”

Lance took a slow sip from his drink, but it did nothing to cool the burning in his cheeks. He glanced around the tavern, but no one was paying attention to the two young apprentices. “I can promise you will pay dearly for this later, but right now- I wish I could kiss you.”

Keith flushed, his eyes flickering around the room. “Not so loud,” he muttered. A reluctant smile spread over his face. “But, me too.”

The moon had begun to descend in the sky. As they approached a side entrance in the Castle gate, a passing cloud threw a momentary shadow over the village. Lance pulled Keith quickly off the gravel road, pushing his back against the shield of a great pine tree. 

“I love you,” Lance whispered, still holding tight to the collar of Keith’s cloak as he met his lips. “And all your jealousy.”

Keith leaned into Lance’s kiss, savoring the softness of his touch, the musk of his scent, the warmth of his breath, before the cloud passed and they had to tear apart in the moonlight. “I love you too.”

Lance trotted back toward the road, a wide smile on his face. “Goodnight, Keith,” he called over his shoulder, “I will see you before the week is out.”

“Goodnight,” Keith said, holding his hand up to the phantom touch of Lance’s lips. 

With a last wave, Lance disappeared through the gate and wove his way back to the Castle. Suddenly, the thought of boils brought a warm feeling to his chest; an odd, wonderful feeling.


	11. Chapter Nine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shiro adjusts to Castle life without Allura, and has a realization as she returns

In the summer the Castle seemed to sprout from the hillside, its carved earthen facade at home amidst the overgrown greenery surrounding the village. Even as dusk settled over Altea, its walls would appear to reflect the warm glow from the town lanterns.

Now, as Shiro hunched low over his dappled horse against the biting wind, the Castle only seemed to loom over him, dark and foreboding. The winter sun, always low in the sky, cast a cutting shadow from behind the ice-coated spires. 

It took everything in Shiro’s power not to turn around and gallop back toward his orchard. There, all that waited for him was an empty cottage, the creaking branches of his frosted trees, and the gruff gardener hired by Coran to help tend to the winter pruning while Shiro was away. 

The old man, with his hands as gnarled as the branches of the trees, wasn’t a terrible companion. For the most part he operated on a ‘no speaking unless spoken to’ policy; the notable exceptions being urgent orchard matters and the occasion grunted question, usually something like, “You’re a strange one, huh, boy?” Sometimes he even accepted Shiro’s offer of tea, and they would sit silently by the fire until the old man muttered his thanks and shuffled off. 

What awaited him in the Castle was a different story. Perhaps not so lonely; but, with Allura gone, lonely enough. Keith’s week at the Castle had gone quickly, much of it spent with Lance anyway, and then he was gone, back to his master’s workshop. Lance kept his distance, either still slow to trust or still embarrassed by their earlier encounters. After the first fortnight Coran had left to join Allura in her land survey, and thus the Castle had emptied of Shiro’s few allies. 

That was the other thing about Allura being gone; without her commanding presence in court, there was not much holding back her ministers and generals. As often as they could, they pulled Shiro away from his training to stand over him in some dimly lit chamber and fling question after question. 

_When were you captured? How? What is the exact location of the camp? How many prisoners? How many guards? Who was in charge? Did they force you to labor? Beat you? Take your arm? How did you escape? When? What are their reinforcements like? Do they plan to move south?_

Most of them were questions he couldn’t answer. 

“What do you mean, you  _don’t know-_ ” One of the more zealous interrogators, Iverson, would growl. He would slam his hands down on the bare wooden table, glaring at Shiro as he flinched. “If I sawed off your other arm, would that jog your memory?”

At that point another officer would usually step in, reminding Iverson that Shiro was a guest of the Queen, and she would have all their heads should any harm befall him. 

By the third week, Shiro found that he couldn’t get the ringing questions out of his head. In the gray morning light he stared into his reflection, at the puffy rings under his eyes and the dark stubble shading his jaw, and wondered. What  _did_ happen to him? He splashed cold water over his face again, watching as it dripped off his lips and the tip of his nose and back into the basin.

He could remember bits and pieces. Being captured on the battlefield. Blinding pain. Someone bandaging his severed arm. A few faces, his fellow prisoners. Anything else had just been his nightmare’s attempts at filling in the blanks— until the previous day.

Shiro had been preparing for his daily training, sitting to tend to his blade after stretching. On the other side of the pitch one of the officers was drilling his men, a sprinting exercise. His bark carried across the grass, “Keep moving, keep moving!”

Suddenly, a vision flashed before Shiro’s eyes. A stormy sky, a steep path washed out with mud. The butt of a spear in his side as a grating voice shouted over the river of straggling men. “ _Keep moving!_ ”

Just as quickly as it came, it was gone. Shiro was still sitting at the edge of the arena; although now he gasped for breath and searched wildly for a sense of place and time. 

The next day something similar happened, when the grate of his bedroom window flickered into the image of a cell door before returning to normal. The second time was equally as disorienting, but eventually the feeling passed. 

Later, at the communal table, Shiro relayed the experience to Keith as he pushed his dinner around with a fork. Keith watched him with a frown. 

“I haven’t much advice to give you,” the young swordsman said, “But maybe your memory is returning, because of Iverson’s questions.”

“I’d rather it stay put,” Shiro sighed. He pinched the bridge of his nose. “It is bad enough I howl like a banshee in my sleep, now I have  _visions_. They’ll try me as a witch before the Queen even begins her journey home.”

Keith glanced around the mess hall, but everyone was too distracted by their own conversations to notice theirs. “I would watch speaking like that in public. Don’t worry, Shiro. I’m sure it’s nothing. And besides-” The corner of his lip twitched mischievously- “I predict you will forget all about this once Her Majesty returns.”

Shiro’s face flushed; he was beginning to regret telling Keith about his last night with Allura. “Does the Prince know about- what happened?”

“No, a Gaian wouldn’t break his word to a fellow countryman,” Keith said, taking a bite from his biscuit, “But Lance has a way of finding out about these things, so I can make no promises as to how long his ignorance will last. None of the serving girls saw you, right?”

Shiro frowned, “I believe not.”

“Good. If one had,” Keith shook his head, “You would have no hope. Even the Queen couldn’t stop that from spreading like wildfire. And with the way they look at you-”

“How do they look at me?”

Keith raised a brow. “Like they used to look at Lance.”

Shiro’s face reddened and he made no answer. He had a feeling Keith was wrong, about his flashbacks, but all the same, he couldn’t help thinking it would all be more bearable with the Queen by his side. 

The Queen. A nagging thought he hadn’t been able to rid himself of since their kiss made him frown. His mind turned again to his treatment at the hands of Allura’s generals. He had relied too heavily on her protection. 

Shiro stabbed at his potato, trying to tamp down the unpleasant revelation that threatened to tie his stomach in knots. He forced himself to focus on Keith, who had started talking about his next dagger innovation, and not on the long week that sat between him and Allura’s return.

 

* * *

 

Shiro had been spending more time in the stables, for the dual purpose of visiting his dappled mare and avoiding the Castle halls. The war ministers were either glowering suspiciously at him or pestering him to constantly relive the worst experience of his life, in the Galra camp. The noblemen and women glared and stared, fascinated and disgusted by his strangeness. 

The Castle staff at least had a little more decorum about it, but every time Shiro left a room he saw the tail end of a curious crowd dispersing and he was acutely aware of the eyes of the servant girls, always observing him and flickering messages to their companions. 

The emotional weight of it was crushing, really. There was no peace, no escape.

Except, he had discovered, in the stables, with its musk, and crunching straw, and soft undertow of whinnying.

So there he was again when the long month was finally drawing closed, taking deep breaths and appreciating the quiet groundedness afforded to him by his horse’s nuzzling. He was desperately hoping the Queen would beat the winter storm that loomed overhead in gathering clouds, lest she be delayed any further, when the door suddenly flew open with a great creak, sending a shiver of icy air through the room.

From the bright stream of afternoon light emerged a figure cloaked in thick wool and fur. A hand reached up to draw back the heavy hood, revealing tumbling silver curls and the glint of a tiara.

“Shiro,” Allura said breathlessly, smiling as the door shut behind her with a thud. Her hair glowed in the white winter sun that flooded in from the window, like the halo of an apparition. Shiro was frozen, mouth slightly agape, but she strode toward him, not minding the dust and straw her trailing cloak stirred.

As she drew near, one hand pulled the thick riding glove off the other. Her bare hand, tinged like her cheeks and the tip of her nose, reached out and curled around Shiro’s collar. In one swift movement she stepped forward, pulled, and leaned up to catch his lips on hers. 

Shiro stiffened, surprised, but after a moment relaxed into her touch with a deep exhale. Her lips were soft, but adamant, and she smelled of the cold. Her hands, cool against his skin, sent a shiver down his spine as their chill brushed against his face, his neck, his chest. His own hand found Allura’s chin, angling her face so he could kiss her properly, deeply. Shiro realized then how hungry he had been for her touch, how the memory of their first kiss had haunted him all those weeks.

He could have stayed like that forever, savoring the sweetness of her lips against his, but she tore slowly apart from him. He had ended up with his back against the stall door, her weight leaning into him and hand resting against his chest.

“Hello,” Allura chuckled, blinking up at him with bright eyes.

“Good afternoon, Your Majesty. Your safe return appeases many of my worries,” Shiro smiled, reaching to bring her hand to his lips. “But you are freezing. Why didn’t you get out of the cold, first?”

“Because I have been dreaming of doing  _that_ all month,” she hummed.

A satisfied smile curled over Shiro’s lips. It was shamefully nice to hear her voice again, never mind that his head was still spinning from her greeting. His eyes dropped to her lips, full and inviting. He was about to lean in for another kiss, but the door’s groaning hinges announced an incoming visitor.

Allura immediately dropped his hand, practically leaping back from him. She cleared her throat, “-I will have Coran provide the correspondence, but I expect you to be at the meeting as well.”

“Of course, Queen Allura,” Shiro nodded, trying to keep a dower face. Then he felt a pang in his chest, a reminder of the thoughts that had been gathering in the back of his head all month. He opened his mouth, but thought better of the timing when he saw the delighted mischief in Allura’s eyes. Instead, he simply nodded again.

Allura didn’t seem to notice his hesitation. He swore he even saw the corner of her mouth twitch up before she turned and swept back toward the the door. “As you were,” she said curtly to the poor stable hand, who had dropped onto his knee at the sight of her. Shiro couldn’t imagine what flashed in Allura’s eyes when the boy met her glance. He turned back to his horse, trying to quell his foolish smile that had returned to his lips.

 

* * *

 

Apparently Allura was eager to jump back into her regular duties and only hours after her return a council meeting was called. The itinerary was short, the council head promising not to hold the Queen too long after her trip, but Shiro was having trouble focusing. 

All through the meeting, he could feel her eyes on him. They would flicker away to ask a question, or review a document, or address a suggestion, but then would return to his, flashing ice blue. It was with some embarrassment that Shiro discerned an almost appraising look in her glance. Even more embarrassing was that he couldn’t help but return the expression. Indeed, he would never had guessed she had ridden hard and fast through an approaching storm that very afternoon. The candelabra on the table before her cast a shimmering light over her deep skin, the elegant lines of her arms emerging from trailing sleeves, the gloss of her lips as they parted, her waterfall of silver tresses.

It was all quite distracting, and made what he was about to do all the more difficult. 

Eventually a distant chiming announced the end of the hour and Coran stepped in to insist that the Queen be allowed to retire for the night. Shiro waited until the ministers had bid her goodnight and turned their attention back to the table. With quick steps he caught up to her before she swept through the doorway. 

“Queen Allura-” He gave her a quick bow. “My apologies, I know the hour is late, but I was hoping I might request a word with Your Highness.”

A smile spread across her face, as if she had been hoping he would approach her. “It is not so late that I couldn’t spare a moment. Would you walk with me to my chambers? There will be time enough on the way.”

Shiro’s glance flickered to the figures that milled behind them. He frowned, saying in a low voice, “I’m afraid this conversation requires a more- private location.”

Allura arched her eyebrow, eyes flashing, and Shiro swore he saw color come into her cheeks. “Very well, then.” She stepped ahead of him into the hall, gesturing over her shoulder for him to follow. After they put a few feet between themselves and the meeting chamber she said quietly, “Inviting yourself into a lady’s bedchamber— I never expected something so forward from you, Shiro.”

It took a moment for her to register what she was saying. At once he felt something dropping into the pit of his stomach and most of his blood rushing to his face. “ _Oh_ , Your Majesty, I didn’t- I would never-” He stammered, cutting himself off with a sigh before he made a bigger fool of himself. Allura was watching him with a highly amused smile. Shiro ran a hand through his hair. “I only meant, it involves the night before your trip, and earlier, in the stables...”

Allura’s expression began to fade as she watched his brow knit, heard the weight in his voice. She nodded, leading him silently down the corridor to her chambers. 

The door closed behind him with a soft thud. She crossed the floor, skirt rustling as she sat at her vanity. She met his gaze in the mirror. “So?”

“Right.” Shiro bit his lip, taking a quick breath to calm the nervous pounding in his chest. “Well, Your Highness-”

“-Allura,” she corrected him, turning on her stool to face him. “We’re alone. Please— Allura.”

He nodded. “Of course, Allura. Well, I have been thinking, over this month-” Shiro paused, trying again. “This month, I spent a good deal of time at my orchard. Thomas- the gardener- was a helpful companion. And I spent time here, training. And, well, with your generals.” Allura was leaning forward on her stool now, watching him carefully. “I know your feelings about their questioning me, but I felt it would make my life easier if I complied, and maybe repay them for taking me into their ranks as they have. It hasn’t been very fruitful-” He cracked a dry smile, which faded quickly- “But reliving those moments, and looking at where I am now-” He sucked in another breath. She was still staring at him intently. “All of this, and what happened between us-  _especially_ what happened between us- has been, confusing, to say the least. And I realized I made a mistake. I acted rashly, and I fear it will only have caused you trouble.”

Allura was frowning. She stood, slowly, pulling the tiara from her forehead and pinching the bridge of her nose. “I confess I do not follow you completely, Shiro.”

There was an awful second of silence before Shiro said, “I shouldn’t have kissed you. All those nights, when we walked together- I shouldn’t have tried to bring you so close to me— I shouldn’t even be here right now.” He dragged his hand down his face. “You are the  _Queen_. You wield the power of the army, your court- you have such grace, and beauty. I- I am a mistake. A lop-sided foreign exile with no title gone half mad. I don’t know what I thought I was doing, but, really, I am sorry. If you would forgive me, I could withdraw and not derail your duties any longer.”

The expression in her eyes was terrible. She took a step toward him, haltingly. Her fists clenched and when she spoke her voice was low and shaking. “Were I a more violent woman, or perhaps a man, I would strike you right now, Shiro.”

Shiro’s mouth dropped open, her words hitting him sharply. “Allura, I apologi-”

“No!” Her finger flew out toward him. “I am going to speak my mind now.” She tossed her tiara onto her bed, crossing her arms tightly over her chest as she began pacing before him. “I also had time to think, this month. I spent so much time on the road, traveling through village after village.” She sighed sharply. “Tedious as the survey of lands is, it always serves as a palpable reminder of my duties. I do not strive to be a good queen only for the sake of my father’s memory. The people depend on me, and I on them. And I owe a great deal to the people of my court- without their support, my transition to the throne, in the middle of this war, would surely have been a disaster. I have many reasons to put stock in their opinions. And they have many reasons to distrust you, Shiro.”

She stopped pacing to look over at him. He frowned, but nodded. “I know,” he said, shifting his residual limb a bit uncomfortably under her eye. 

When Allura spoke again her voice was softer, no longer rough with anger, but her expression was still sharp. “Many things changed with my father’s passing. Had he lived, I might have stayed under his tutelage for years before receiving the crown. Or perhaps by now I would be married, lady of the house of some far off prince. Maybe even have a child.” A dry smile, almost a sneer, spread over her face. “Could you imagine it? Me, pregnant?” The word was strange coming from her mouth; Shiro didn’t quite know what to make of it. Allura shook her head, looking at him again with a knit brow. “But the present is what it is. I am the Queen. I know my duties, and my debt to my people. But they are afraid, insecure. And as many reasons as they have to distrust you, I have twice as many not to-” In a few quick steps she crossed the floor, reaching for his hand with shining eyes. “I will never be held hostage by the opinions of the court. If you truly believe that kissing me was a mistake, I will never breathe another word of it. But if you are just afraid for me, listen when I say that I have learned the hard way that the things worth fighting for, worth the risks, should never be allowed to slip away so easily.” She was gripping his hand tightly, lips curled into a smile even as overwhelmed tears began to well in her eyes. “I’m sorry, that is all I had to say, please don’t think me mad-”

“Allura,” Shiro almost choked, his throat suddenly becoming raw. His blood was pounding in his veins. He felt lightheaded. Her courage seemed to immobilize him, striking him in the chest so he couldn’t form the words that were whirling around in his head. Instead, all he could do was return the pressure in her hand and lean forward and kiss her. 

She made a noise in the back of her throat, and Shiro felt something wet on his cheek. Their hands stayed entwined between their chests, both only able to focus on the feeling of their lips meeting, free for the first time from doubt and fear. For a moment, all else was forgotten.

But, eventually, Allura pulled away from him. He chased her lips for another kiss, deep and slow, and then contented himself with running his hand through the hair that tumbled down her shoulders. 

Allura’s eyes searched his, her expression settling into something more solemn. “I cannot promise you much, Shiro,” she murmured, “I will not marry until the war is won, at least. And, for both our sakes, it might be prudent to be discrete, at least in the beginning. I say this as a matter of practicality, I wouldn’t want to offend you-”

“You could never,” Shiro grinned. “I understand what we both have to give.” He brushed his fingers along the edge of her jaw, sighing. “I should go, I never meant to keep you this late.”

“Well, it was for good reason.” Allura smiled, resting her hand on his chest for a moment. “I will see you tomorrow, then?”

“Of course.” Shiro took her hand in his and bent to kiss her knuckles before turning to stride toward the door. 

“And, Shiro-” Allura’s voice floated from across the room. When he looked back at her, the corner of her lip was curled into a cheeky smile. “The beard becomes you.”

Shiro’s face flushed a deep red. He smiled, touching his hand to his chest with a short bow. “Rest well, Allura.” 

As the door shut behind him, Shiro was glad there was no one in the hallway to see the pleased smile he couldn’t wipe from his face. 


	12. Chapter Ten

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shiro and Allura find ways to spend time together as winter turns to spring; Lance receives a letter

Shiro’s figure, already fuzzy in the dark winter morning, became lost for a moment in the steam of her exhale. Allura rubbed at the back of her neck, unprotected from the cold with her hair braided into a long plait. She stretched out the stiffness of sleep, the metal of her armband pressing cold against her face as she reached upward. Flexing her fingers, she could tell it would be a tough fight that morning; the cold made her sluggish, thickening her blood and slowing her down. 

Shiro seemed to be thinking the same thing, rolling his shoulder and scanning the gray sky with a wary eye. He caught her watching and smiled. “Ready to begin?” he asked, voice still thick with the early words of the day.

Allura laughed, almost a sigh. Neither of them particularly enjoyed sparring before sunrise in the dead of winter, but of late there seemed to be little other choice. With spring still months ahead the activity of the war council had dwindled, leaving them without a convenient excuse for their ever increasing intimacy. But alone on the cold, hazy training pitch, they were free from the restraints of their respective stations. It was only the two of them, Shiro and Allura, and their dance of weaving, dodging, and striking. 

She sucked in a breath and lunged with flashing eyes, hoping to catch Shiro off guard— but, of course, Shiro was never off guard. He spun and deflected her punch to the side with his residual limb. Allura grinned; much to her delight, he had begun to use his right side in their sparring with increasing frequency. “Not holding back, I see,” she said, lilting with taunt as she drew back into a defensive posture, circling him in the gravel.

“Best way to keep the cold from your bones,” Shiro grinned, launching toward her for his own attack.

Soon the only sounds in the ring were the crunching of gravel under their feet, the dull thwack of skin hitting skin, and their mingling cries of effort. Their eyes remained locked, both glaring from under knitted brows with minds blissfully focused on nothing but their next move. 

If either of them could have had their way, they would have kept fighting until the sun reached its apex, but the morning light had barely burned off the mist when voices began stirring beyond the training pitch. 

“It might be wise to call it,” Shiro said between gasping breaths, stepping back from Allura but keeping his defensive pose.

Allura nodded, holding up her hands in acquiescence before reaching to wipe her brow. “Yes it would- although I detest indecisive matches.”

A smile pulled at the corner of Shiro’s mouth. “I feel the same way.”

“Well, I am at least glad to see you are no longer afraid to fight me, Shiro,” Allura smiled mischievously, planting her hands on her hips as she regained her breath.

Shiro raised a brow, “What makes you say that?”

“You’re beginning to have me on the ropes with that right arm of yours,” Allura tilted her head, watching him stretch his residual limb with his hand, “You wouldn’t have dared, when we first began sparring.”

He seemed to consider her words for a moment, before deciding that they pleased him. “I suppose you are right, Your Highness. My visions have not improved, but I don’t find myself so plagued by old pains. Curious.” Allura frowned, still troubled by the thought of his flashbacks. She opened her mouth to speak of it, but Shiro seemed to sense what was coming and before she could speak offered, “Would you accompany me to the stables before you prepare for the day? My mare has taken quite the liking to you.”

Allura hesitated, but she was no match for his expectant smile. “Of course, Shiro.” She reached out to slip her hand into his, enjoying the warmth of his touch until they emerged onto the grounds, already buzzing with morning activity, and she had to let go.

* * *

“-And if this week’s thaw holds, we may be able to expedite the movement of our troops. I told him he will have time at the next meeting to discuss it with you in length, Your Highness.”

Allura nodded as Coran spoke, her eyes watching the steady progress of their steps along the stone floor. Her hand, nestled in the crook of his arm, gave his elbow a squeeze. “Very well. Thank you, Coran. As always, the kingdom would collapse without you.”

A satisfied smile pulled across the older man’s face as he met the queen’s eye. “And as always, Queen Allura, you far overstate my worth. But, I  _will_ give that our seasonal preparations have gone well- I am anxious to see if they will pay off during our next strike against the Galra.” The hand not entwined with Allura’s reached up to tug at the end of his mustache.

“Yes, I always grow restless before spring. I will be glad to see this winter passed smoothly behind us,” Allura mused. 

As her eyes returned to the corridor before them, a familiar figure rounded the corner. It was apparent Shiro was fresh from the stables, his boots coated in fresh mud, cheeks ruddy and hair tussled from the late February wind. Allura immediately decided the look suited him well. 

“Shiro, hello,” she called, raising a hand to match his greeting. 

“Good afternoon, Coran, Your Highness-” He met them with a short bow, holding her gaze with bright eyes. 

“I was just saying to Coran that I hoped to run into you today, Shiro,” she said, “If you have time to spare for some small business.”

“Of course, if you can forgive my current state,” Shiro gestured toward his clothes with a small smile, aware that Coran was watching them carefully. 

“-Well then, I believe this is where I leave you, Your Majesty.” Coran’s gaze lingered on Shiro for a moment before he turned to Allura, taking her hand in his as her arm fell from around his elbow. He pressed a quick kiss to her knuckles before straightening. “Enjoy the rest of your evening- and if you may, light a candle and send my respects.”

Allura nodded, answering in a soft tone, “Certainly, Coran. I will see you for lunch tomorrow.” He nodded to both of them and began retracing his steps down the corridor. 

Shiro held out his elbow for her to take, raising a brow as Allura led him down the hall. “What was Coran saying about a candle? Where are you taking me, Allura?”

She patted his arm, smiling but keeping her eyes forward. “You may want to continue with the Your Highness’s for now, Shiro,” she said in a low voice, “But I wanted to show you something today. It is a place very dear to my heart.”

He gave a nod and a short hum, realizing from the bittersweet tinge to her expression that this ‘business’ was more serious than getting pulled into a broom closet for a kiss. They walked quietly for awhile, winding their way deeper into the Castle and chatting lightly about their weeks. 

Eventually they reached a dead end, a hall lined with sconces that ended in a pair of double doors set deep under a carved archway. Allura pulled her hand from his as they approached, reaching up to graze the motifs carved into the wood- symbols of Altean kingship, royalty, and memorial. 

She turned to him, clasping her hands close in front of her. “This is the chapel dedicated to my mother and father, Shiro. I visit every week- and when my nightly wanderings lead me this way.” She rested her hand on the door handle, looking up at him with soft eyes. “You may come in with me, if you’d like.”

Shiro bowed to her. “I would be honored.”

She turned and pushed through the doors, revealing a circular chamber of glittering black marble. Candles, hanging in chandeliers and crawling up candelabras, threw their flickering light over the dark columns that ringed the perimeter of the chapel. From the center of the domed ceiling an oculus let in a shaft of gray afternoon light that slanted toward the altar built into the far wall. 

Shiro caught his breath at the sight, hesitating in the doorway as Allura walked ahead of him. The doors closed behind him with a puff of air, sending a shiver toward the chimes that hung somewhere in the shadows. With slow steps he approached Allura, who was kneeling by the altar. Ledges of small candles, lit and unlit, led like stairs to the marble slab that jutted from the wall. A golden raven held two sticks of smoldering incense in its beak, the curling smoke drifting upward toward the portrait that towered over the altar, flanked by two pink memorial draperies. 

Two figures, the king and the queen, stared out at Shiro from the wall. He could vaguely recognize the features of King Alfor, the proud chin and weary brow. A streak of gray ran through his black hair- Shiro reached to smooth back his own. Holding Alfor’s arm was a woman whose image he had never seen. She was tall, elegant, poised- but with a slight, almost knowing, curl to her lip. Dark curls fell over her shoulder, a striking contrast against the crystalline eyes that seemed to sparkle at him from the painting. Shiro was struck by the realization that he could be looking at a portrait of Allura, so acute were their similarities. 

Her voice jolted him out of his reverie. “Would you like to light a candle, Shiro?” She was standing now, watching him. 

“Oh- yes, thank you.” He removed his glove, stepping cautiously to the altar and lowering himself to his knees. He chose one on the top row, next to the two flames Allura had lit, and sent up a silent prayer as the wick caught. He stayed there for a moment, watching the flickering light and pleading to the spirits of the fallen Alteans that they might watch over all that they had left to their daughter. 

When he stood, Allura moved next to him, careful to draw her skirts away from the flames. She reached into her trailing sleeve and pulled out a small drawstring bag. “Juniberry petals,” she said, lifting the pouch to her nose and drawing in a slow breath, “My father’s favorite. Around this time we would always take a trip to the south, where they bloom first.” She reached toward the altar, where a marbled bowl of water sat next to the raven, and let the petals fall. They floated on the water’s surface, spinning gently. Wordlessly, she slipped her hand into his, entwining their fingers. 

“It is a beautiful chapel,” Shiro murmured. 

Allura nodded. “It was built first for my mother, but when my father passed it seemed appropriate that it be dedicated to them both.” She looked upward, “When the moon is full, its light comes through the oculus and reflects off the surface of the bowl. The effect is quite breathtaking. Overwhelming, almost.”

They stood quietly, Allura’s gaze resting on her parent’s portrait, until Shiro ventured, “You bear a striking resemblance to your mother.”

“Yes, I guess I do,”  Allura sighed. She glanced over at him with a smile. “Apparently I also have her temper.”

“Was she as fierce a fighter as you?” Shiro asked.

Allura laughed, “She was more a scholar than a warrior, I believe. They say that is why my father fell in love with her. But she was strong in other ways, a fighter in her own right.” As the words echoed through the chamber, her smile fell. “I wonder sometimes, if she were still with us, if she had been  _stronger_ , whether... we would have lost so much in this war.” Her eyes swept over the portrait, flickering to his face and the rounded end of his right arm. 

Shiro frowned, giving her hand a squeeze as he tried to find the right words. Before he could her expression faltered, lips dropping and brow knitting. He started, “ _Allura_ -” but she dropped her head, hiding her face as a choked sob escaped her. He quickly drew her to him, wrapping his arm around her and gently stroking her hair. She clung to him, unable to stop the hot tears that soaked into his shirtfront. 

He murmured comforting words in her ear until she was able to steady her wracking breaths. Allura sighed deeply, resting her forehead against the firm plane of Shiro’s chest. “I used to hate them, for leaving me,” she said in a muffled voice. When she looked up to meet Shiro’s gaze her eyes were red and flashing. “But it is the Galra I hate. If I do only one deed as the Queen of Altea, it will be to destroy them. They will never take from me again.” 

Shiro clenched his jaw. “And I will stand by you, Allura. You have a fierceness they can never match.”

She pressed a salty kiss to his lips, eyes squeezed shut.

* * *

“That was awful! The target is  _stationary_ , all you have to account for is the wind-” Lance threw his hands in the air, and right on cue another gust rolled through the archery range. The first afternoon not spoiled by rain in three days, but still the gale would not let up. 

Keith lowered his bow, throwing Lance a raised brow and a cheeky smile. “Maybe I would grasp it more easily if you were to  _show_ me, Prince Lance.”

Lance dropped his hands, his frustration vanishing suddenly. “Well, I am happy to oblige my student,” he drawled, slinking over to Keith to lay his hands over his, nestling his chin into Keith’s shoulder. 

A dual groan arose from the bench a few feet away.

“Keith, I really thought you above this-”

“-Lance, you are  _shameless_ -”

The younger men looked up, as if they had forgotten Shiro and Allura were even there. Allura was pinching her brow with one hand, while the other discretely entwined itself with Shiro’s in the space between their laps. 

Keith pursed his lips. “There’s no need to act self-righteous, Shiro. The  _sole_ reason you accompanied us was to hold hands with the Queen.”

“Exactly, cousin,” Lance called tauntingly to Allura, “What business has Shiro in the range? It is not as if he can shoot a bow with that-”

“ _Prince Lance_ ,” Allura cut in sharply, “Watch what you say.”

Shiro gave her hand a squeeze. “It’s alright, Allura. They are correct, after all,” he said, giving her a crooked smile. “Although,” he added in a low voice, “I wouldn’t mind watching you shoot. It would be almost as fun as watching you spar.”

Allura scoffed, bumping lightly into his shoulder before pressing a quick kiss to his lips. “Very well— the flirting is over, Lance,” she called over the wind, “I’m your next student!”

Keith chuckled as Lance sighed against his neck. “Good luck,” he smirked, kissing Lance on the cheek as he pressed the bow into his boyfriends’ hands.

* * *

She seemed to float over to him, a hand bedecked with bangles and rings offering him a glass of sparkling red liquid. There was a soft clinking of metal as she dropped into the space next to him on the sofa. Gold hung from her ears, her neck, crisscrossed through her hair and over her brow, all glinting in the fire light. Light danced off her waterfall of curls, the tresses tumbling off her shoulder to lose themselves in the gauzy folds of her dress. 

Just that morning he had seen her clad only in her wool training garb and an armband, felt the power of her strikes as she lunged toward him. Intoxicating as she was in the pale morning light, there was an entirely different kind of beauty in her now as she lounged next to him. 

She took a slow sip of her drink, letting her chest fall with a sigh. “Early spring is deceiving. We had such a pleasant day, and now the night is as frigid as winter.”

Shiro set aside the book he had long ago abandoned in favor of observing the Queen, turning to face her on the sofa. “I, for one, will mourn the loss of these cold nights.”

Allura raised a brow at him. “Is that so? You enjoy your drafty quarters?”

“No,” Shiro’s smiled, “But I will lose a great deal of enjoyment when I can no longer watch you glow by firelight.”

He could tell Allura was trying to look at him sharply, but the effect was ruined by the slight curve in her lip and the twinkle in her eye. “Has nobody told you that flattery will lead to nothing in my court, Shirogane?” 

“I believe I remain uninformed, Your Highness,” he said, laying his arm across the back of the couch. 

Allura chuckled dryly. “You and the rest of the nobles, apparently.”

“I would say my charms are a bit above the rest of your court, wouldn’t you?” 

Shiro was looking at her expectantly. She decided to take the bait, leaning closer to him. “How so?” 

A pleased smile curved over his face. Shiro reached out to run his finger down the gold that dangled from her ear, along the curve of her jaw. “I don’t see anyone else from the court in your bedchamber,” he murmured.

Allura’s face flushed deeply, lips pursing as she tried to hide a smile in her drink. Shiro chuckled, impressed that he could draw such a reaction from her. 

She turned, depositing her drink on a side table before leaning forward to run her hand through Shiro’s hair, over his neatly trimmed beard. “Oh, Shiro, this is just what I was afraid of,” she crooned, mischief in her eyes, “My affections have made you too brazen. You’ve gone mad with ego— now I’ll have to have your head.”

Shiro met her gaze with a grin, leaning into her touch and moving his to bury in her hair. “I would give it gladly,” he breathed.

In response she shifted forward, catching his face in her hands as her weight fell against him. His lips tasted like wine against hers- or perhaps it was the other way around. His hand wove deeper into her curls as he pressed closer to her, savoring their kiss. Allura smiled at the roughness of his beard against her skin and the new tactility that met her hand as she ran it down his cheek.

“Is something amusing, Your Majesty?” Shiro murmured, barely moving his lips from hers. 

Allura snickered, shifting to center her weight over his lap and wrap her hands around the back of his neck. Her eyes flashed at him from just inches away. “Have I mentioned how much I admire your new look, Shiro?”

Shiro bit his lip against a smile. “Once or twice.” 

He made a noise in the back of his throat as Allura deepened their kiss, letting the curtain of her hair fall around them. She pulled back just enough to trail her lips along the edge of his jaw and press slow kisses against his neck. She whispered against his skin, “Will you stay the night?”

Almost immediately she felt Shiro freeze. When he answered his tone was light, but Allura could feel the stiffness in his touch when he rested his hand against her waist. “What will you say when the girl comes to draw your morning bath and sees me in your bed?” he asked with a tight chuckle.

“I will tell her that jealousy is unbecoming on a young woman,” Allura smiled, pressing a comforting kiss to Shiro’s mouth. “No one will-”

“ _Allura, I-!_ ”

Suddenly the door to her chambers flew open and Lance bounded in, waving a piece of parchment. There was a moment of dead silence, all three figures gaping wide-eyed at one another in disbelief. Lance’s face seemed almost stricken, but not so much as Shiro’s. Allura would have leapt off of him had he not practically thrown her from his lap. “Lance, what are you  _doing?_ ” she hissed with flashing eyes, crossing her arms tightly over her chest.

Lance shook his head, recovering quickly now. “I’m sorry, Allura, it’s just- I-” His eyes flickered to Shiro, who was beet red and fumbling with the top button of his shirt.

“Lance,” Allura cried sharply, “Get out-  _now!_ ” 

After a second he clamped his mouth shut, nodding and slipping back into the hallway. As the door closed behind him with a thud, Allura sank back onto the couch, pinching her brow. “I apologize, Shiro, I don’t know why he would just-”

Shiro reached to give the hand that rested on her knee a squeeze. “Don’t apologize, Allura.” He stood, a set coming into his brow that Allura recognized; she needn’t apologize, it was  _his_ fault for being reckless. Always his fault.

“Shiro,” she sighed, “Please-” She let her voice trail off, knowing the moment had passed. 

“I should be going.” He bent down to kiss her forehead, a smile on his lips but worry in his eyes. “Goodnight, Allura. Sleep well.”

In a moment she was alone in her bedchamber, dark and silent save for the dim crackling of the dying fire. She dragged a hand down her face, a frustrated sigh clawing from her chest. “Am I not allowed a  _moment_ of privacy? I’m going to throttle him, that idiot,” she muttered, standing and throwing a discarded pillow against the sofa. It hit the cushion with an unsatisfying thud. 

She sighed again, softer. “ _I_ aman idiot.”

Her robe threw a fluttering shadow in the moonlight that illuminated her way down the corridor. Slippers muffled her anxious footsteps as she marched toward Lance’s quarters; thankfully, the Prince was only a short ways away. 

Her knuckles hit softly against the door. “Lance? Are you in there?”

“Come in,” a voice called.

She entered the room to see a bleary-eyed Keith seated on the bed next to Lance, who was slumped over the same parchment she had seen him with earlier that night. 

“I just don’t know what to do-” she heard Lance choke out over Keith’s comforting murmurs. 

“Keith,” Allura’s brow knit, “Might I have a moment alone with my cousin?”

Keith glanced up at her, almost with hostility, before giving Lance’s hand a squeeze. “Of course, Your Highness.” He stood, letting his boyfriend’s hand fall slowly from his. “I have training early tomorrow, Lance, but I will find you afterward.” Allura averted her eyes for a moment as Keith leaned down to kiss Lance tenderly. “Goodnight.” He nodded to Allura as he left the room, “Goodnight, Queen Allura.”

When he was gone, Allura slowly approached Lance’s bedside. “Lance, I want to apologize for earlier.” She sat gingerly next to him. “I have been under a lot of pressure lately, with the war and everything...but I shouldn’t have snapped at you. I promise, I did not mean to upset you-”

Lance looked at her, face pinched with worry like she had never seen on him before. “Thank you for apologizing, but it’s not about that, Allura-” He cracked a small smile- “Although, we  _will_ talk about what was happening in there later.” Just as soon as it appeared, the smile faded. “I received a letter from my parents, just a little while ago.”

Allura reached out to smooth back the locks of hair that fell across his forehead, a frown pulling at her lips. “What have they written? Do they want you to return to their court?”

“Well, in a way-” Lance sucked in a breath, the parchment crumpling in his tightening grip. “Apparently, I am now  _engaged_.”


	13. Chapter Eleven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Lance leaves for his parent's court, memories of his journey to Allura's resurface; Shiro tries in vain to comfort Keith

Lance leaned his head against the side of the carriage, trying with little success to cushion its jostling with his hand. His cousin’s castle had long faded into the distance, and now he watched as sun soaked hills rolled past, their fresh grasses eagerly drinking in the spring weather. Outside, warm breezes stirred the sweet air, but within the confining walls of the carriage the mood was rather icy. His guards stared at him dully from the facing bench, and as they rumbled ever closer to the border of his parent’s kingdom a cold knot was tying itself tighter and tighter in Lance’s stomach. At first he dismissed it as residual anxiety from his last conversation with Keith, full of apologies and promises he wasn’t entirely sure he could keep. He bit his lip, remembering the taste of salt from their parting kiss.

But, that wasn’t quite it. The feeling was more familiar, like a sinking déjà vu. 

Then, it came back to him like a flood; memories of an opposing journey, when he left his home for Allura’s.

— “Well, I believe Miri brought down the last of it….I don’t like seeing your quarters so bare, it suddenly makes it all real-”

Lance stood by the window, letting the voice from across the room wash over him as he took in the view of the courtyard for the last time.  _Good riddance_. 

He turned to the figure that was watching him from the edge of his bed, hands fidgeting with the waist of her dress and the golden curls that fell to her shoulders. Avin, his best friend and one of the few things he would miss from his parent’s court. His face softened. “I know,” he said, moving to sit next to her.

“How did Marie take your goodbye?”

Lance glanced toward the window. “She will be fine.”

“ _Lance_ -” When he looked back at Avin she was giving him the look he had seen a million times, piercing and disappointed, with a little scrunch in her nose. “You won’t even give her that much? She is a sweet girl, from a noble family! Not some low born urchin you can just throw away.”

Lance couldn’t help but roll his eyes, “Well it is not as if she is a  _princess,_  either. It is for the best. Things are- easier, this way.”

“You are cruel,” Avin frowned.

“Can we not do this, today of all days?” Lance sighed. There was a tense moment, its silence familiar, but Lance offered her a smile, reaching out his hand. “I am giving  _you_ a goodbye, aren’t I?” 

Avin considered him for a moment, then clasped his hand with a defeated sigh. “Yes- and I would never have forgiven you if you hadn’t!” She bumped against his shoulder, mirroring his grin.

Just then the door creaked open and a young man, his hair dark and eyes bright like Lance’s, poked his head in. “Lance, the envoy is ready. You’re expected downstairs.” Without waiting for an answer, the man disappeared.

“-I’ll miss you,” Lance said after Avin released him from a tight hug, “But we’ll write each other, yes?”

“Of course, every week,” she promised.

“And who can tell,” Lance gave her hand one last squeeze, “Maybe I will return before the summer is out.”

Minutes later Lance found himself at the front entrance of the castle, squinting at his family against the sun. Well, some of his family. Apparently the curt summons was all his one brother could manage, and the other hadn’t bothered to see him off at all. His sisters were there at least, standing on either side of their parents. 

“-Be sure to show your cousin the proper respect,” his mother was saying, “She may just be a good influence on you.”

His father stared down at him imperiously. “Yes, and remember that you bear the family reputation wherever you go.”

“Of course, Mother, Father.” Lance nodded, almost a bow, and met their eyes briefly. 

“Well, I am sure the others are anxious to be off. Travel safely.” His mother laid a gloved hand on his shoulder for a moment, retracting it quickly.

His youngest sister stepped forward, a frown pulling at her round face. “Goodbye, Lance-” She hesitated, clasping her hands for a moment, before throwing herself at him and squeezing tight. “-I’ll miss you!”

Lance gave her a comforting pat on the back. “I will miss you, too, Sofia,” he said, smiling against her dark curls, “You will practice your penmanship and write me, won’t you?”

She pulled away, nodding vigorously with shining blue eyes. “Of course!”

His other sister offered a wave, his father a curt nod; and with that Lance was off, watching with increasing dread as he left the devil he knew for the devil whose uncertainty was beginning to haunt him. 

Lance woke with a start, only then realizing that his memories had turned to dreams. It was not yet dark, but the sun had lowered in the sky. He drew his cloak closer around him, trying to ward off the foreboding feeling that lingered in the pit of his stomach. He could still see his father’s gaze, cold and unwavering, boring into him.

He couldn’t help but think how different his departure from Allura’s court had been. Late the previous night she had come to his chamber, as she had when he first received that fateful letter. She had a way when she was trying to comfort him, like it was a rare task she couldn’t entrust to any other method. She sat beside him on the edge of his bed, speaking softly and watching him with eyes full of feeling. She let him spill his fear, his uncertainty, his anger, and when he fell silent she reached to smooth back his hair.

“Do you love him?” she asked. 

He answered hoarsely, “Yes.”

“You have precious few people you would answer the same for,” Allura smiled, bittersweet, “Years ago, I may have told you to resign yourself to your fate. But now, I believe that is enough. You have changed, since you first arrived at my court- if you believe Keith is worth fighting for, you will not be defeated. Go home, and be strong.” She wove her fingers through his, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze. “If you need me, do not hesitate to write. I do believe your father is still afraid of me.” Lance nodded, meeting her eyes with a smile.

The next morning, she was waiting outside his door after he said goodbye to Keith, and stood watching until his carriage disappeared from view.

Lance shifted uncomfortably.  _You have changed_. The words echoed through his mind, bringing another memory to the surface just as drowsiness overtook him once more.

He had forgotten just how imposing King Alfor’s- or rather, Queen Allura’s- castle was. Its facade towered over him, the eternally stretching corridors and flying vaults of its ceilings dwarfing him in their grandiosity. 

It was dark when they arrived. Miri had been quickly whisked away by a page, leaving Lance to feel very small as he trotted behind the fluttering cloak of an older man with a bristling mustache. They wove through a seemingly endless maze of hallways until they reached a set of double doors. The man- Coran, a figure Lance vaguely recognized standing beside his uncle- pushed through them and into a large chamber furnished with a long banquet table.

“Your Majesty, our guest has arrived,” Coran called.

A crowd of military men gathered near the head of the table parted to reveal a young woman leaning over a pile of maps. There was a flash of gold as she looked up and set her piercing eyes on Lance. 

A shiver ran down the young prince’s spine. It had been many years since he had seen Allura, except for the occasion of her father’s funeral; he hadn’t spoken to her then, only stood stiffly and watched as she was led, dazed, through the day. Now as he met her eyes, he was struck by how the time, only two years, had affected her. She had always seemed mature, holding herself with natural poise, but a weariness beyond her years had settled into her face. The effect was only amplified by the way she was looking at Lance, her expression almost as stricken as his, as if she hadn’t quite believed he was real until that moment.

She blinked, her face smoothing into a smile that was almost a grimace. “Oh, yes- welcome, Prince Lance.”

“Thank you, Queen Allura, for your gracious offer to host me,” Lance said, bowing rather awkwardly under the gaze of both his cousin and the military council.

A few beats of silence ticked by before Allura clasped her hands, glancing at Coran as she said, “Well, you must be tired from your long journey- Coran can escort you to your new chambers. There he can help you get settled, and I will see you tomorrow at breakfast, yes?”

And that was that. Lance was ushered out of the room and Allura turned back to her war council, although not before she watched his back retreat with a frown.

A week passed. In Lance’s figuring, he would be able to continue in his old patterns with little problem, perhaps even with more freedom than at his home court. He had not seen much of Allura at all, most of her time consumed by the war effort, and Lance assumed she- even more so than his parents- was too busy to notice that he was far more dedicated to poking around the castle or pursuing some of his peers in court than to his lessons or a respectable sleep schedule. 

His bubble was abruptly shattered by the piercing eyes that greeted him at breakfast that morning. It was a surprise; usually Allura was already waist deep in her itinerary and hardly had time for more than a croissant on the run. Lance tried to sidle into his seat as inconspicuously as possible but Allura’s icy stare honed in on him the moment he passed through the doorway.

“So good of you to join us, Prince Lance.” She flashed a smile, lips pressed firmly together. “Are you feeling well this morning?”

Lance suppressed the urge to shift under her gaze, barely meeting her eyes as he reached for a danish. “Yes, Your Majesty, quite well.” He tried to keep his voice nonchalant, venturing to add, “Why do you ask?”

Allura’s smile dropped into a hard look. “I had Miri call for you nearly an hour ago. When you failed to appear, I could only assume you had fallen  _ill_. Why else would a young man, spry as yourself, still be dozing at such an hour?”

Something in the ring of her words sent a hot prick of annoyance into his side; it was like every lecture he had ever received from his mother, even delivered in the same cold, even tone. Before he could stop himself Lance looked at her and answered, “I apologize, cousin, but it seemed so unlikely you would grace us subjects with your presence that I hardly thought my tardiness would matter.” The glib attitude was unwise, but Lance was never one for considering consequences.

Allura’s nostrils flared. The rest of the table, crowded with chattering lords and ladies, fell quiet as she set down her goblet. “I do not know what sort of behavior was tolerated in your home court, but  _here_ I do not appreciate such snark.” She clenched her jaw and folded her hands tightly, like she was steeling herself. “Your parents did not put you under my guidance so you could do as you please- ignoring my summons, lounging about at all hours of the day, neglecting your lessons. That is not how  _my_ court operates, Prince Lance. I do no tolerate uselessness. And indeed, I can only take it as an affront to my person that you see it fit to behave in such a way.”

Suddenly Lance felt like he had been punched in the gut.  _Useless_. The word seemed to suck all the air from his lungs. The scraping of his chair and the echo of his footsteps as he left the chamber were all that could suffice for his answer.

It was more than a week before he saw Allura again. The day was bright but gray, the sun shrouded by a thin layer of clouds. Lance had wandered into the training pitch stands by chance while the Queen’s archers were practicing and found that he couldn’t tear his eyes away from their drills. As such, he didn’t notice his cousin approaching until she was only a few feet away, looking at him apprehensively. 

He swallowed. Allura’s eyes flickered to the pitch, then back at him. Smoothing her rustling skirts, she sat on the stone bench a few feet from him. In the silence before she spoke the space felt like a chasm. Her hands clasped tightly together as her eyes darted back to the archers. “Coran thinks I was too harsh with you, the other day.”

Lance glanced over at her. Her voice betrayed no emotion, but her profile was creased with something like doubt. He didn’t answer.

“You must understand,” she turned to look at him with searching eyes, deep blue like his own, “Order  _has_ to be maintained at court. I am a young queen, and we are at war. If I am to rule effectively, I must have order. It was not my intention to hurt your feelings, only to impress upon you the seriousness of my duties-  _and_ yours.”

Lance studied her face, points of family resemblance jumping out to him. Still, her words only made him feel cold. “I understand,” he said. 

Allura’s eyes narrowed as she held his gaze. She said in a slightly changed voice, “If you have something on your mind, please share it, Prince Lance.”

His fingers tapped against the cool stone of the stands. He hesitated, lips pressed into a thin line and eyes returning to the pitch. “The harshness of your words did not hurt me, just— we are hardly acquainted. It usually takes a bit longer for people to land on that word.” It was hard to keep the bitterness out of his voice. Lance sighed, grumbling under his breath. “ _Useless_.”

He saw Allura’s face smooth with understanding, then crease with- regret? Pity? Anger? His cousin was frustratingly difficult to read. She seemed to want to reach out to him, but her hand landed halfway between them on the bench. “I- I want you to know that you are welcome here, Prince Lance. This is your home, for however long you stay.” Her tone was almost soft, but there was an undercurrent of discomfort to it that made Lance raise a brow. “But I do not like self pity. So, maybe we must both make an effort. It is true we are hardly acquainted, but perhaps we could begin building some mutual respect?” She gave him a small smile.

Lance blinked. He hadn’t realized, fully, that she was in new territory. It  _was_ discomfort in her voice. She was holding her hand out to him, and the expression on her face was full of sincerity. A strange feeling came into Lance’s chest, a warm tightness that made him at once nervous and hopeful. “I would like that.” He grasped her hand, reciprocating her smile. “We might start...with you just calling me Lance?”

Allura’s smile widened, a light coming into her eyes. “Of course,  _Lance_.”

“- _Prince Lance!_ ”

Lance awoke with a start. 

One of the guards across from him nodded, their hand retreating from his shoulder. “My apologies for waking you, Lord Prince, but we are arriving.”

Lance sucked in a deep breath, blinking the sleep from his eyes. The rumbling of the carriage faded as they rolled to a gentle stop. Outside, rows of lanterns dimly lit the road. When he craned his neck, he could see the iron doors of the outer wall flickering darkly in torchlight. As if activated by his very glance, the doors swung open with a mighty creak and the carriage pitched forward.

Lance swallowed hard. He was home.

* * *

“Alright, I think that is enough sparring for today.” Shiro bent down to pick up the blade Keith had knocked from his hand, resheathing it and rolling his sore shoulder. “I need a rest.” He raised his brows, just slightly, at the younger swordsman.

“I will rest when I tire,” Keith said, keeping a tight grip on his weapon. 

Shiro met the younger man’s flashing eyes with a frown. “Keith,” he sighed, “You know I am here to-”

“-I do not need a shoulder to cry on, Shiro,” Keith cut in, turning his back to continue with his exercises. As he attacked the training modules, the curt knock of his sword against wood punctuated his grunting words. “Why would I-”  _thunk_  “-even be-”  _thunk_  “-upset? Why should I care-”  _thunk_  “-if he runs away-”  _thunk_ “-to go marry some stupid-”  _thunk_ “-beautiful-”  _thunk_ “-courtly—  _wench_?” At the last word he sent his sword flying; the blade embedded itself in the neck of a scarecrow. The straw head fell silently to the ground as Keith watched, arms crossed and breathing rapidly. 

 “Keith-” Shiro moved to lay his hand softly on Keith’s shoulder. “Lance loves you. He will not let that happen, he said so himself.”

“What choice does he have?” Keith looked up at him, brow knit and eyes flashing with desperate worry. “What else can he say?  _No, Mother, I’ll wed this orphaned swordsmith instead?_ I can’t believe I was so naive, so reckless-”

“I know you feel powerless, but nothing will change with worry.” Shiro hesitated, trying to find the words to comfort his friend but drawing a blank. He sighed, “I’m sorry, Keith, I wish I knew better what to say, but you will drive yourself mad if you let this overwhelm you.”

Keith didn’t say anything, walking out of Shiro’s touch to retrieve his sword. There was a long silence, broken only by the crunching gravel, before he spoke again. “Would you really be so calm, Shiro? If a prince, a king, were to propose a marriage for Allura?” he asked, eyes focused on the distant treeline, “Are you not acutely aware that they bear the losing end of our relationships? In social currency, a title is worth a man’s weight in gold. We have nothing.”

Shiro clenched his jaw, watching Keith with a frown. A thought passed through his mind, one that he had kept at bay during many a long night.  _I will not marry until the war is over_ , Allura had said. When the war was over, how many allies would be scrambling to marry their sons off to the Queen of Altea? How many times could she afford to say no?  _When the war is over_. That was assuming they’d win. 

Shiro sighed, only then realizing his fist was clenched so his nails dug into his palm.  “Believe me, it never leaves my mind.” Keith gave him a sympathetic look. Shiro sighed again, drawing his sword. “On second thought,” he smiled grimly, “I could go another round.”


	14. Chapter Twelve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A quiet moment alone for Shiro and Allura, then a revelation and more fateful news

“-Might I suggest we leave the military matters for our briefing?” Allura gave the hand that rested beneath hers a squeeze. “I don’t mean to pause our conversation so abruptly, it’s only- we went through so much trouble to come out here, I was hoping we could pretend, just for a moment, that we don’t have so much looming over us.”

Shiro gave her an penitent smile. “Of course. My apologies.” He leaned in to press a soft kiss to her lips. 

Allura watched him as he stretched out his legs, gazing into the distance with a sigh. He cut a noble profile against the backdrop of spring, Allura thought. His thick brows knit as his eyes drifted over the valley spread below them, following the flow of the river, swollen with recent rains. A breeze ruffled the loose folds of his shirt, pulling it against the sculpted curve of his arm and revealing the elegant line of tendon from his collarbone up his neck. He pulled from her touch to smooth some stray locks back from his forehead and tug pensively at his beard before returning his hand to hers, absently caressing her skin with his thumb.

He caught her staring. 

“What?” he asked, tightening his grip and looking over his shoulder. His eyes flashed nervously.

Allura frowned. They had set up at the crest of a hill, the castle still within sight but far enough in the distance; nothing elaborate, just an old blanket, some bread and cheese, a small jug of wine. She couldn’t even remember what convoluted plan they had hatched to buy themselves an hour or two for a picnic, or how they managed to escape the castle grounds unseen. Allura had a sneaking sense that Coran had some part to play in it— the man was quite perceptive, especially when it came to matters involving herself, and she was beginning to suspect that he knew more than he was letting on. But she wouldn’t let it bother her. She was trying not to let  _anything_ bother her while she and Shiro were in their little bubble, as preposterous as the idea sounded.

Shiro, on the other hand, seemed more tightly wound than ever. It almost made Allura wonder if perhaps she had grown too careless, too comfortable; but the tension in his grip, the vein in his neck, the slight brittle edge in his voice- it all spoke of something deeper. Something about the news of Lance’s engagement, delivered the previous week, making him especially antsy? Or maybe it was their impending strike against the Galra, the volley they had been preparing all winter. Allura couldn’t be sure, but it was clear that even holding her hand on a beautiful, secluded hillside, Shiro still had his guard up. 

“Nothing, Shiro,” she said gently.

He seemed to read her thoughts on her face. He deflated a little with a sigh, reaching to really hold her hand. “I’m sorry Allura, I don’t mean to be so distracted. I should be enjoying our precious time alone, especially when you could be whisked away to the front at any moment,” he offered her a smile.

Allura mirrored it, her hand grazing his cheek as she moved to smooth the hair on the side of his head. “You need not apologize. Believe me, I share your anxieties. And I wish I could ease them for you, but- all I can do is promise you that we are safe here, Shiro.” 

She held his gaze, deep and full of warmth. He reached to touch one of the curls falling from her shoulder, letting it fall loosely through his fingers. Then he cupped her cheek and kissed her tenderly. “Thank you,” he murmured. She hummed in the back of her throat, her hand resting on his clavicle as she pressed her lips lovingly to his.

“So,” she said, pulling away to slide onto her back and settle the curve of her neck against Shiro’s leg, “I hear from my cousin that you are acquiring quite the cult following among the young ladies of the castle.” She entwined her fingers with his, laying their hands against her stomach as she gazed up at him.

Shiro laughed, his cheeks reddening. “Well I am sure I am nowhere near as popular as your cousin, but, yes, some of them are… precocious. But I guess it is better than them being afraid of me.”

Mischief curled into Allura’s smile. “I wonder what some of them would say, if they could see us now. I think I would find my loyal subjects to be much less loyal.”

“That is quite devilish of you, Your Majesty. Now, I seem to recall you once telling me that  _jealousy is unbecoming on a young woman_ -” He raised a brow, grinning as he leaned over her, “And yet it would appear that you are reveling in it.”

Allura rolled her eyes, biting her lip against a smile. Shiro chuckled, evidently quite pleased with himself. She reached up to finger the fabric of his collar. “Well, I find  _gloating_ equally as unbecoming on a young man.” She pulled him close, tickled by the loose locks of his hair that fell over her face. As a warm breeze, sweet with the perfume of wildflowers, rolled over the hill, she leaned up to catch his lips once more.

The stone walls of the castle were an unwelcome sight, but at least they could return together, having ‘randomly’ encountered each other on the path back to the gate. At least, she hoped it would appear that way, for they had barely reached the palace courtyard when she was met with a familiar face. 

“Ah, good afternoon, Lady Holt,” Allura called, raising a hand in greeting as two figures swept toward them, “And young Lady Kate, you look well.” She smiled at the two ladies before her, both with gently curling blonde hair and a pleasant set to their faces. 

The Holts were one of the few families in her kingdom’s nobility for whom she felt a genuine warmness. There was an openness, a lack of presumption, to them that she had grown to greatly appreciate. Katie was younger than her cousin but far more mature, an intelligent young woman with a sharpness even in her gaze. Colleen was as even-tempered and level-headed as they came, always a voice of reason within the court. Allura owed Lady Holt much of her sanity, and especially in the last year- since the Lady’s husband and son had both been declared dead after going missing from the front- Allura had come to greatly admire the quite strength they possessed.

“Good afternoon, Your Highness,” they said in unison, offering her curtsies. 

“You look well rested, Queen Allura,” Colleen said with an almost motherly smile, “I am glad to see it.”

“Thank you,” Allura nodded, “Oh, where is my head? I do not believe you have been formally introduced, this is-” She gestured between them, turning to Shiro with a smile that dropped when she saw his expression.

His face was unnaturally pale, his jaw slack, his eyes wide and flashing. His lips moved like he was trying to speak, but no words came out.

“Shiro!” Allura laid a hand on his shoulder, trying to keep the panic out of her voice, “Shiro, are you alright?” 

Colleen and Katie exchanged alarmed glances. “Should we call a medic, Your Majesty?” Katie asked, clasping her hands tightly. 

Shiro leaned his weight weakly against Allura, taking a halting step toward Katie. He spoke, his voice tight and almost choked, “M- _Matt_ -”

The color drained from the Holts’ faces. Shiro collapsed.

* * *

 

Shiro’s eyes fluttered open. It was a moment before he realized where he was; soft light flooded a rectangular room and across from him stretched rows of white cots. Off to the side, the medic was talking in quiet tones to two familiar women. The Holts. 

 _Matt_.

His head started to swim again, but Shiro forced himself to focus. There was a strange feeling in his chest, like a hole had been filled that he hadn’t even known was empty. New memories crowded his brain, pushing against one another, still smarting with too many emotions to count; but, mainly, there was guilt. Layers of guilt, tinging every memory that had come back to him at the sight of Katie’s face, so similar to her brother’s. He could feel it pressing down on his chest like an anvil. 

He lowered his head slowly back onto the pillow, closing his eyes and hoping they hadn’t seen him start. There was too much to process, no room for assuring them that he was alright.

Their faces swam in his vision. Samuel, who had taken him in like a son, despite already having one to protect. He was a caring soul, not built for war, but he shouldered his burden without complaint. Matt, fiercely loyal and always watching his back. He still remembered the green eyes that glared at him, cutting through the blinding pain that seemed to radiate from his arm, telling him he had to hold on, that the Galra couldn’t win just yet.

Those eyes. 

Shiro remembered, too, the last time he saw them. The night everything went wrong just as it was starting to go right. It felt like they had been running for weeks, stumbling through the thick of the forest, but not a soul had uttered a word of complaint. Every painful step forward was another step away from the Galra camp, the arena— he was sure now that there had been an arena, the source, perhaps, of some of his scars. Then, as they attempted to cross the border in the dead of night, it all fell apart in a dark jumble of sharp cries and the clang of metal against metal. Shiro saw an opening, he called out; then he saw the strangled look on Matt’s face, the terror flashing in his eyes. 

He had to stay behind, had to protect his father. They would be taken to the labor camp on the border.  _Go_.

“I’ll come back for you,” Shiro mumbled, his throat dry and eyes pricking with moisture.

Almost a year had a passed. And he had forgotten, not just to return, but about their very  _existence_. 

The anvil on his chest pressed heavier, threatening to crush his lungs. His breathing quickened, but before it could become erratic a warm pressure was laid against his shoulder.

At first Shiro flinched, expecting to find Allura’s crystalline eyes, always searching and scanning, piercing his; he was surprised to find warm brown eyes, creased around the edges, looking down at him. 

“You’re alright,” Colleen said, her voice soft and low, “You collapsed, we brought you to the medical wing.” She helped Shiro sit up, slowly. “Here, you should drink.”

He accepted the cup of water gratefully. Now, as clarity returned to him, he saw Katie standing behind her mother, wringing her hands and watching him warily, impatiently. Evidently being held back by her mother’s caution. “I apologize if I startled you, earlier. I doubt that was a pleasant experience for any of us,” he smiled wryly.

Lady Holt patted his arm, unbothered by his residual limb. “We are just glad it wasn’t more serious.” She gave him a somber smile, lips pressed closely together. She looked back at her daughter and sighed, now clasping her own hands in her lap.  She started, her voice hesitant and tired, “I understand you must be exhausted, and I do not mean to push you further…” 

Katie stepped forward, eyes flashing and voice quivering. “You called me Matt. My brother’s name. Do you know him? Do you know where he is? What about my father? Are they alive?”

“ _Katerina-_ ” Colleen reprimanded, “You mustn’t overwhelm him.” Katie didn’t appear too sorry.

“No, no, it’s alright,” Shiro held up a hand, moving to sit on the edge of the bed. “I- I’m not sure, about everything.” He found it easier to meet Colleen’s gaze. “I did  _know_ them. We were in the same prisoner camp, but the last time I saw them—” He told them some of it, how they survived together in the camp, how they had been moved to the border a year ago and he hadn’t seen them since. He kept some things, the more painful ones, to himself.

Colleen’s face remained stoic, only revealing flashes of emotion. Katie clasped a hand over her mouth, her brows knit and eyes brimming with moisture. “I knew it,” she whispered, “They  _must_ be alive.”

The hope in her voice sent a cold arrow into Shiro’s heart; but as he felt it pierce the guilt that had begun to pool in his chest, he came to a realization. He stood. “Lady Holt, do you know where I can find Queen Allura? I am sorry to leave you, I know there is still much you’d like to know, but I have to speak with her.”

The Holt women exchanged an odd glance. “Her Majesty was by your side, but she was pulled into an important meeting by a minister. I’m sure she will return when she can,” Colleen answered.

“What about Coran?”

“He was accompanying her, said they were not to be disturbed,” Katie said, her voice regaining its balance.

Shiro’s brow knit as he watched another look cross between them. “What happened? Is the Queen alright?”

Colleen stood, biting her lip. “The doctor said you should rest, that you shouldn’t be bothered so soon, but, well-” 

She hesitated and Katie immediately jumped in, like she was bursting, “ _King Zarkon is dead!_ ”

* * *

 

The chamber door flew open, sending a shiver through the parchment that crowded the long table. Allura looked up as her ministers fell silent, surprised to see Shiro striding into the room, his color returned to normal but a serious set to his face. She realized that she had almost forgotten about his earlier ordeal in the flurry of activity that had descended upon the castle. “Shiro! What are you-”

“Is it true?” he asked, “Is he dead?”

Coran stepped forward. “Yes, it is true. We received confirmation that the King succumbed to an illness two days ago. The timeline for our plan has been moved up-” he gestured toward a stack of papers on the table- “We must strike while their kingdom is in disarray. Right now, there are three generals vying for power, and we intend to use that to our advantage and end this before-” He hesitated, just then noticing the fire that had built behind Allura’s eyes.

“Thank you, Coran,” she said through gritted teeth, “I was going to have you informed of all of this, Shiro,  _after_ you had recovered.”

Shiro’s gaze flickered from her to Coran. “Before what, exactly?”

One of the generals at the table looked up from the map he was tracing over, cutting in, “Before their prince can be called from exile, of course.” A wave of murmurs rose at his comment.

“Enough!” Allura snapped, pressing a hand to her temple. Shiro looked like his head was starting to spin again. She reached for his shoulder. “I did not intend for you to be bombarded like thi-”

“-There is something else, that I must speak with you about,” Shiro interrupted in a low voice, his eyes regaining their clarity.

She felt the prick of raised eyebrows coming from her council and quickly drew her hand away from his arm. “I am really cannot be disturbed, Shiro,” she said, her voice tight, “And you should be  _resting_.”

“Your Majesty, please.”

Allura could feel his eyes boring into her, their depths brimming with intensity. She sighed. “Gentleman, please continue. I will only be a moment.” Coran gave her a nod and she dragged Shiro by the elbow to the corner of the room. “What is this about? Is everything alright?”

He explained everything to her; the trigger of his flashbacks, the memories of the prison camp, the night of his escape. She felt a knot twisting in her gut at the sight of the pain in his face, and it took everything in her power, aware as she was of the eyes that watched them, not to reach up and cradle his cheek, or wrap her arms around him, or clasp his hand. He finished with a slow, deep sigh. “I have to go back. I know where the camp is, just over the border.”

“Of course I understand, but,” she pulled at one of her curls, “-I hate to say it, but how do you know that they are even still alive?”

“Well- I don’t.” Shiro shook his head, “But if I know Matt…they survived.” His hand reached out, hovering in the air between them like he wanted to wrap it around hers. “Allura, I  _must_ go. I made a promise.”

She chewed at her lip, eyes flickering to the war council as she tried to sort through the thousands of thoughts that swirled in her head. “I- I know. I wish the timing were better, but I’m afraid I cannot offer you any additional assistance on your quest. I’m sorry, it’s just, with everything going on, our resources are already spread so thin-”

“You needn’t apologize,” Shiro said, his eyes shining, “This is my task, and mine alone.”

A slight curl spread over Allura’s lips. “Always so noble, aren’t you?” She watched his face for a moment and then shook her head. “Now, I must go, but I will have Rilna prepare some supplies for your journey. And  _you_ must rest, really, and I will visit your chamber tonight when this meeting is through.”

Shiro gave her a smile, although small and tired. “You have my thanks, Your Highness. Until tonight.” He bent to kiss the back of her hand and left her to watch his retreating back.

She sighed, her expression fading as she turned back to the council. A deep breath steadied her pulse. She reminded herself to focus on one thing at a time. For now, she needed to focus on winning this war.

* * *

 

She entered without knocking. He turned from the candlelight that illuminated the report he had been reading. He had to catch his breath for a moment; she was like an apparition, hair and eyes glowing in the light, dress hugging and flowing from her curves, her lips parted and catching a glint on their gloss. 

“Allura.” Shiro stepped closer, reaching for her hand. Up close he could see what made her human. Creases under her eyes, strained from scanning reports and deciphering maps. Calluses on her fingers, rough from strategizing on paper, rewriting, signing. A slight tremor to her sigh, cracking with emotion and exhaustion. Silently, he wrapped his arm around her, cradling her head and pulling her close. Her hand reached up to cling to his shoulder as she gently laid her cheek against his chest.

They stood like that for a few minutes, just letting their weight lean on each other, letting themselves soak in the other’s warmth. “Shiro,” Allura breathed, eventually tilting her head up and meeting his eyes. Her eyelids fluttered closed as he met her lips, full and pliant. Her breath hitched as he pulled away, his hand sliding down to wrap around her waist. He turned her gently until her back was leaning against his chest. He pulled the silvery locks from her shoulder and bent to press kisses, soft and slow, against her neck. 

“I’m sorry I have to leave in the middle of all this,” he murmured.

“It is alright,” she sighed, leaning into the vibrations of his low timbre, “I believe I will have to leave for the front soon, anyway. I only wish Lance weren’t so far. You in the north, he in the south. I do not want to disturb his personal matters, but…I would feel better, were he here.”

“I know.” Shiro rested his chin on her shoulder. “I just don’t want you to feel as if this all rests on your shoulders.”

Allura was still for a moment. “Well…doesn’t it, though?” She turned to face him, her hands resting against his chest. “I am their Queen. Whether we succeed or fail, the fate of the kingdom- it comes down to me, my leadership. In the end, I am the one who must see this through.”

Shiro met her gaze. Her eyes, shining like crystals, showed no hopelessness, no fear. Only determination, grit. Something warm swelled in his chest. “I guess you are right,” he said with a smile. “Now who is the noble one?”

The corners of her lips pulled vaguely upward, though her brow raised questioningly. Her hand tapped against him, “Why do you smile?”

His expression widened into a grin. “Because I know already that you will put all future Altean queens to shame. And that you will do what even your father could not- you will end the war. Perhaps out of sheer force of will.”

He felt her grasp his shirtfront, and she pulled him down to meet her lips. It reminded him of their first kiss, almost desperate with feeling and hope and the looming prospect of absence. 

The next morning, only just after sunrise, Shiro met Allura, Colleen, and Katie by the palace gate. 

Lady Holt clasped his hand tight. “Whatever happens, whatever you find, know that we are eternally grateful to you.” Katie nodded, unusually quiet. 

Allura stepped forward, stopping to run a hand over his horse’s muzzle before she turned to him. “You leave for your quest with the Queen’s blessing, warrior of Gaia.” She procured a silver brooch, embossed with two Altean lions and a crescent moon, and fastened it at the neck of his cloak. In a low voice, she said, “Promise me you will be cautious. I would like for both of us to emerge alive from our ordeals.”

He nodded solemnly, answering with a hint of smile, “The Queen’s wish is my command.”

Then, without further fanfare, he mounted his horse and departed for the northern unknown.


	15. Chapter Thirteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As rapid developments in the Galran War continue, Lance navigates his parent's court as he tries to make good on his promise to Keith

_Dear Lance,_

_I pray this letter finds you well, cousin. It has been nearly a fortnight since I last received news from you, and as it would be a fool’s errand to attempt to discern good or bad omens from nothing, I can only assume that you are resolving this matter at your own pace. The thought occurs to me— as glad as I would be to hear from you, I do hope that a letter of yours is not making its way to my court as I write this, only waiting until the wax of the seal dries to render these sentiments obsolete. Regardless of all this, **I**  have a some recent developments of which I must inform you._

_The most significant comes from the war front. We have been engaged in a series of skirmishes with the Galran generals, all of which are still ongoing but not entirely bleak in their prospects. However, a much more pressing obstacle has emerged; our efforts to preempt the arrival of the Galran Prince were for naught. Lotor has emerged from his exile in the North East and essentially taken his father’s place— curiously, though, there has not been a coronation. I am sure you are too young to remember the time before the war, when our kingdoms were at peace and he would accompany his father on visits to the Altean court. My own memories are vague, but I remember we played together in the garden while our fathers talked…._

_But I digress. Our troops briefly clashed along the base of the Komar Mountains, with a victory on our side. Now I have received a communication from the Prince himself. He desires a parley; beginning, apparently, with a meeting between the two of us. To what end he intends to pursue these talks, I am unsure. Naturally no one in the court trusts this tentative olive branch, but I have been sensing of late that victory may be within reach, and this could help to clear the path somewhat. Coran and I agree it is a risk, but it may be a valuable way to better discern his character._

_In other news, you will be interested to know that your Keith has received a promotion. He is now a member of my personal guard entourage, and is helping to coordinate my security detail as we prepare for this imminent meeting. I believe he is happy to be moved onto the project- Shiro sensed he was growing restless training the soldiers from the pitch. I know you will be worried for him as we move forward, but try to put yourself at ease. He is as capable a swordsman as I have ever seen, and I will do my best to ensure his safety, as he will mine. Busy as he has become, he did not have time enough to write you a letter, but I have included a note which he asked me to deliver to you. (He has a terrible scrawl, I haven’t the faintest idea how you can decipher it. Not that I peeked!)_

_I will confess that in these weeks my court has again become quite lonely. Of course I am occupied enough with this forsaken war, but I find myself missing your lighthearted presence. And Keith has informed you of Shiro’s quest, I am sure. All I have heard of **him**  is a note dashed off as he reached the northern border, where he dares approach that Galran camp alone. I understand his sense of duty, but even the  **thought** of losing him makes my hand tremble- can you see it in my script? I’m sure Shiro would point out the irony of that, given my own daunting situation. Still, my worry has not allowed me many- if any- a peaceful night._

_Do you also sense change once again on the horizon?_

_My life is already so different than it was only five years ago, but I cannot shake the feeling that we are all at a crossroads. It is foreboding, and unsettling, but maybe there is also hope in the future._

_Well, enough poetics._ _I will try to write again before I depart, but if I do not get the chance… I pray you are doing well in your parent’s court and that we may be happily reunited under my roof as soon as the fates permit. Wish me good fortune as I undertake this gamble, and hope that it is a fruitful one._

_Should something urgent arise, you may address your correspondence to Coran and he will be sure it reaches me. Give your family my regards._

_All My Love,_

_Allura_

* * *

For the first time in weeks, Lance felt light. The air was golden and warm, and his whole body felt enveloped by a familiar musk. He sighed and the arms that wrapped around his waist pulled him tighter. 

“I love you, Lance. I’ll never let you go.” Keith’s low whisper tickled his ear.

Lance reached out, his hands finding the side of Keith’s face. “Never,” he echoed. He smiled and Keith leaned in to kiss him. His lips were sweet like berry wine, their tender touch washing over Lance in a wave of joy. 

Then, before Lance could really savor the feeling, Keith pulled away. Lance reached to tug at his collar but Keith pushed his hand away. “It is starting, don’t you know?” Keith asked, boring into him with dark eyes. 

Lance blinked. He was standing on a street, at the edge of a large crowd. Knights marched past in glinting armor as the people let out a reverberating cry of victory. He recognized Keith and Shiro among the soldiers, each carrying a bejeweled crown. They approached a wide staircase at the end of the street, where Allura stood waiting. Shiro bowed to Keith, who placed the crown atop his head. Shiro then turned to Allura and did the same to her. The crowd cheered uproariously, and then abruptly fell silent. 

Lance blinked again. He was at the foot of the steps. Allura towered over him. Keith and Shiro were gone. He met her eyes, unnaturally blue, and felt a icy chill trace its way down his neck. “Where were you?” she asked, her voice barely a whisper, “What were you doing? How can you stand by and watch?”

Lance opened his mouth to speak but suddenly Allura crumpled to the ground and the world went black.

* * *

His eyelids fluttered open, but the bright light made them feel like lead and they dropped closed again. A groan, muffled against the crook of his elbow, escaped him as he vaguely registered a pressure on his shoulder. His mind longed to drop back into inky unconsciousness but whatever force was pitching his shoulder back and forth dragged him back into that light, now coming in through the cracks in his squinting eyes. There was a noise, distant and unintelligible at first but growing louder and more distinct by the second.

“-Lord Prince, you must wake up! Your sister is here.”

Lance sucked in a breath, propping himself heavily against his elbow. He blinked against the morning light, Miri’s looming face still fuzzy.  “Tell Allura she can wait,” he mumbled, dragging a hand down his face.

His chambermaid’s face came into tighter focus, her lips pressed into a thin line. “Prince Lance, your  _sister_.”

He followed her gaze over to his bedroom doorway, where his youngest sister stood looking at him with wide eyes and a tight frown. Lance sat up fully. His dawning consciousness brought back the memory of his odd dream, and with it a growing pit in his stomach.  He shook his head, running a hand over his face to wipe away his disorientation. “Oh, Sophia-” He pushed aside his covers, inhaling and exhaling quickly. “What’s- is something wrong?” 

Sophia wrung her hands together. “Not quite, it’s only…we need to talk. Will you walk with me?”

Lance frowned, rubbing at his eyes. “Yes, of course, just- give me a moment-”

A few minutes later he emerged, washed and dressed, from his bedchamber to find Sophia waiting in the sitting room. He paused in the doorway, momentarily struck by the sight of her. Gone were the days when she would flop unabashedly onto his couch, skirts laying wildly as she twisted about, chattering on about this and that. Gone were the tightly spiraling ringlets that bounced beside a round face. The girl before him was perched gracefully at the edge of the couch, quietly smoothing the skirts that flowed from a corseted bodice. Her face, thinner now, with prominent cheek bones like their mother, was framed by loose, careful curls, secured in the back by a blue bow. Her features had an almost mature set to them, like a preemptive echo of the future. She was beautiful— and somehow, that stirred a sentimental kind of melancholy deep in Lance’s chest. 

“-Lance?” Sophia looked up at him, and Lance was relieved to see the same earnest look in her round, blue eyes. It was as if all her words, rather than tumbling out of her mouth like a waterfall, had begun to pool in her gaze, bright and expressive. 

“I’m sorry,” Lance shook his head, walking over to take her hand in his, “I just cannot believe how much you’ve grown. It’s like I left you a little caterpillar and I come back to find you a butterfly.”

“Oh, stop,” Sophia chided, although she smiled widely, “You sound as if you’re giving me away on my wedding day.” She stood, something in her smile faltering into bittersweetness. “But I suppose much  _has_ changed in your absence. You heard about Avin, I’m sure?”

He nodded, his gaze momentarily dropping to the floor. Avin, who had been one of his closest confidants for all those years. He remembered their goodbye, the feeling that nothing, not time nor distance, could come between them. By the end of the first year, their letters had dwindled from weekly to monthly. By the end of the second they had stopped completely. Six months ago he had received news, written formally and awkwardly, that she had been married. His sisters informed him that she now lived with her husband in the southern region of the kingdom, within the ranks of some lower court. “Yes, I heard,” Lance sighed, “I’m sure she is very happy.” Sophia squeezed his elbow, probably sensing his discomfort. He forced a smile. “But enough reminiscing— what is so pressing that you had to drag me out of bed?”

“Well,” she chewed on her lip, “It was not  _me_ , so much as Nat…”

Sophia pulled at his arm but Lance stood fast, frowning at the thought. “Natalia? You mean she has been giving me the cold shoulder since my arrival, and now she is using you as a carrier pigeon?”

She tugged again at his wrist, clearly anxious to have the matter settled. “Well, Elena said their quarters have more privacy, and you would-” 

Lance scoffed. His twin sisters, younger than he and older than Sophia by three years, could never be one without the other. Elena in particular could let nothing happen without her nose stuck in the middle of it. He and Natalia had been close, once upon a time, but Elena had always been too concerned about their parent’s approval for them to be anything more than civil. Still, Lance had thought it odd when Nat refused to say even a word to him upon his return; and that Elena was conspiring to weasel her way into the conversation now that she  _did_ want to talk meant something was afoot. 

“Alright, alright,” he sighed, “Lead the way.”

He followed his sister through the winding corridors until she ushered him into the large quarters that Natalia and Elena still shared. Although the spring day was warm enough there was a bright fire in the hearth, where girls were sitting together on a plush couch. 

It was obvious they had been talking about him; when he entered their heads snapped toward the door and they fell immediately into silence. They were wearing coordinating dresses and their hair was done in the same braided bun, giving their movements an unnervingly synchronized quality.

Lance met their eyes with a stony expression, spreading his hands palm up. “Sophie said you needed to speak with me, so— here I am.”

Natalia rose briefly, gesturing toward the chairs across from her. “Yes, thank you for coming, Lance.” As she sank back down she began to wring her hands over her lap. “Listen- I know we have not always been on the best of terms, and I wanted to say that I am sorry for that. Especially for how I have treated you these past few weeks-”

“You mean how you blatantly ignored me?” Lance raised a brow, “Yes, that was certainly a warm welcome home.”

Elena shot him a dirty look but Natalia grimaced, twisting her fingers together even tighter. “I know, I know, that was horrible and petty, especially in light of-” She sighed and covered her face with her hands. For a moment Lance thought she was crying, but then she gripped her knees and met his gaze with a sudden determination. “Lance, there is something I must confess to you. I should have spoken up sooner, but I- I am in love with Reina’s brother.”

 _Reina._ His faceless betrothed. Lance had tried to shove the thought of her down whenever he could, but the word felt like a knife to the gut. Of course his mind went immediately to Keith, and how every time someone said  _her_ name it was like another betrayal of him. But then he processed what Natalia had said. “You- you’re in love with her brother?” Lance blinked.

“ _Max_ ,” Elena cut in with an almost gleeful undertone.

“Y-yes, Max. We met at the solstice ball, last winter, and he has been writing me ever since, secretly, of course, and he- he said he wanted to propose, but then Mother and Father arranged the marriage for you and Reina, and he does not want to go against his parents, and I- I hated you for it—”

Sophia jumped up to put her arm around Natalia as her words caught in her throat with a shaky breath.

Lance frowned, his brow knitting. Distant as he and his sister may have been, he understood her pain all too well. “I feel for you, Nat, really. And believe me when I say that I do not wish this marriage for myself. I have been searching for some way to convince Father to dissolve the engagement, but so far- nothing.” Lance dragged a hand down his face, his chest tightening as a wave of helplessness washed over him. Images from his dream came flooding back, the phantom pressure of Keith’s kiss tingling against his lips. The situation  _couldn’t_ be hopeless. He had a promise to keep. But what could he do? 

Natalia buried her head in her hands as her sisters rubbed her back sympathetically. “I would pay anything to change this,” she said through another shuddering sigh.

Suddenly an idea stuck him like a bolt of lightening. “That could be it!” Lance cried, leaping out of his seat. His sisters met his wild eyes with confusion, but he was too agitated to stop and explain. “Tonight, at dinner- you’ll see! It could work! There might be hope!” Sophia stood to try and sit him down, but he just grinned at her, laying a hand on either side of her head and smacking a kiss against her forehead. “Until dinner,” he called, already halfway out of the room.

* * *

“-A preposterous plan,” his brother scoffed. Leo, sitting at the left hand of their father. Evidently he had gained some confidence in the past three years, after taking their eldest brother’s place as the King’s echo. It suited him in an unfortunate kind of way. Alexander, two years Leo’s senior, had graduated to carrying out their father’s will in his own estate with his new bride. Flat and cold as he was, Lance thought his oldest brother had at least played the role with a modicum of dignity. Leo was a pompous idiot with none of Alexander’s grace.

Their father held up his hand. All heads, which had been turning between Lance and Leo like a volley, snapped to him. He gazed at Lance coolly. “Enough. The matter is not up for debate, or negotiation. It has already been settled.”

His mother set down her glass, giving him a pitying smile. “To set up the marriage between  _them-_ you do not understand what you propose, Lance. Max is their  _eldest_ son-” She glanced at Natalia- “And with your sister’s dowry, the trade would be quite uneven, you see?” Nat took a slow sip from her goblet, as if pretending she hadn’t heard.

Lance gripped the arm of his chair with white knuckles, his jaw clenched as it had been for all of dinner. His father’s detachment, his brother’s dismissal, his mother’s condescension- it all grated against his nerves until they were raw and frayed. And now, to see Natalia avert her eyes while their mother insinuated that she would not be  _worth_ the marriage? Thoughts of countless conversations, off hand comments, petty jabs from their parents came back to him. Sophia had mused that much had changed at court while he was away, but in fact, he was realizing, nothing had changed. Nothing at all. His parents were always weighing the  _worth_ of their children, like gold with which to barter. Voices seemed to swirl around him, closing in like dark fog- Allura’s challenge, issued so long ago, to be more, the solemn oath he made to Keith before his departure, the question in his dream that still haunted him.  _How can you stand by and watch?_

Suddenly, the pounding in his veins stilled with a moment of clarity.

Lance sat forward, meeting his father’s eyes with a new determination. “-Then I will tip the scales. Take my inheritance, however much is necessary. I will sell my possessions, even, if that would add enough to her dowry as to make the marriage viable.”

Every member of his family stared at him with wide eyes. Natalia covered her mouth with her hand. His father set down his goblet, slowly and deliberately, his mouth pulling into a scowl. “What is the meaning of this?” His voice nearly shook with anger, “You would really go to such lengths to disobey me?”

“This has nothing to do with you, Father.” Lance caught Natalia’s eyes, gleaming with hope. A flood of warmth and courage washed over him. He thought of Allura, comforting him even as she bore the fate of the kingdom on her shoulders. He thought of Keith, always pushing and giving even though the world had already taken so much from him. They were right- he needn’t be afraid. He clenched his fist and stood. “I do not consent to marry Reina. I will not be a pawn in some petty alliance, and I will not deprive Natalia of the one she loves.” Then Lance said something that even surprised himself. “I am leaving tonight, returning to Queen Allura’s court to- to train with her archers and help coordinate the military effort. I will no longer stand idly by. This is my decision, it is final.”

Before he could change his mind, Lance turned and left his family at the table. 

* * *

Lance could at least consider himself lucky to have an understanding chambermaid. He was shaking when he returned to his quarters, where Miri had not expected him for another hour. All that happened spilled from him in a wild rush of words; but when he informed her that they must make all their journey’s preparations that night she didn’t say a word, only pressed a motherly kiss to his forehead and told him to change into his travel clothes.

As he was tucking some final items into his trunk, a familiar figure appeared again in his doorway. “You are really leaving?” Sophia asked, surveying the chaos of the room with wide, somber eyes.

“I’m sorry, Sophie.” Lance beckoned her close, a frown pulling at his lips. “I did not intend to cut our time together short, after so long apart, but I- I have to.”

She said with him on the edge of the trunk, turning his hand over in hers. “I have not seen you so serious about anything since you tried to convince Mother to stop your mathematics tutoring,” she murmured, smiling softly. “You must have really been touched by what Natalia said.”

Lance bit his lip, clasping her hand with a sigh. He met her gaze, earnest and questioning, and found himself again compelled by a twinge in his chest. “Well, actually- there is something more to my motives which I must confess…” He squeezed her hand, leaning in and speaking low. “But Sophie, you  _must_ promise me that this will stay between us. That is very important. Not even Natalia can know, and certainly not anyone else in the family. Understand?”

His sister swallowed, nodding solemnly. “Of course, Lance. I promise.”

“Thank you. You see, Nat is not the only one in love. I could not marry Reina because there is someone else, at Allura’s court, whom- whom I wish to marry.” His hands started trembling at the words. He sucked in a breath, whispering, “His name is Keith, and I love him.”

Sophia’s lip dropped, her gaze glazing over and then flashing with understanding. “H-he? You mean-?”

Lance nodded slowly. “Yes.” A smile curled over his lips as he continued, “And Sophie, he’s…everything and nothing I could have ever dreamed. He’s the most exceptional swordsman in the kingdom. He’s brash and impulsive, he’s driven, he’s fierce, but kind, intelligent, and he’s brave, so brave, and- and-”

“Oh,  _Lance_ -” 

He hadn’t even realized he was crying until Sophia threw her arms around his neck and the hot tears that coursed down his cheeks began to soak into her shoulder. “He is risking his life, for all of us,” he said through a shuddering breath, muffled against the fabric of her dress, “I must do  _something_ or I’ll- I’ll-”

Sophia just nodded, clinging to him harder until Miri came and knocked gently on the door frame. “Lord Prince, the preparations are finished. We may depart whenever you are ready.”

Lance pulled away, composing himself with a sharp sigh. He wiped the moisture from his eyes and managed a smile. “Well then, I guess I should be off. Thank you, Sophia. You’ll be sure to write me, yes?”

“Of course, brother.” Her head bobbed wildly as she squeezed his hand one last time. “And Lance-” She looked up at him with gleaming eyes. “What you did, what you are doing- it’s the bravest thing I’ve ever seen.”

Lance met her smile, a surge of warmth rising in his veins. He leaned down to kiss the crown of her head. “Goodbye, Sophie.”

Soon after, Lance was staring out the window of his carriage into the inky blackness of passing wilderness, the figures of Sophia and Natalia waving him off long swallowed by the night. Despite the knot that tied itself in his stomach whenever his thoughts turned to the uncertain future, there was a lightness in his chest that Lance never experienced leaving his parent’s court before. It was different from the false, alluring bliss of his dream. It was pride, and hope. He would be with Keith. He would build something with his life. He would help win the war. Lance smiled.

A sudden lurch pulled him from his reverie. He blinked at his guards. “Why have we stopped?”  

Just as the words left his mouth, a convoy guard approached; he rapped on the carriage window, his expression tight in the lantern light. As the door opened, the sound of thundering horse hooves faded into the distance behind them. “Lord Prince, we have just intercepted a messenger, who continues urgently on to the court of your parents,” the guard reported, offering a quick bow. As he spoke, the pit in Lance's stomach began to feel like ice. “Evidently the advancement of our departure for Queen Allura’s court was fortunate-”

“Out with it!” Lance cried, “What is going on?”

“Well, Lord Prince-” The guard’s expression faltered momentarily- “Queen Allura has been shot.”


	16. Chapter Thirteen: Coda

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An addition to the last chapter— Allura's perspective

The morning was unseasonably cool, its breeze carrying a chill more like autumn than spring. Allura took a deep breath to steady her nerves, letting her eyes sweep over the hilltop. To the east lay the river that divided the allied lands from a Galra colony. To the west, grasslands met with the northern woods. The landscape rippled as another gust rolled over the clearing. Allura shifted her weight, hyper aware of the cold metal that pressed against her ankle- the knife she had concealed in her boot. She glanced over her shoulder, where her guard was waiting about ten yards away. She met Keith’s eye; he gave her a reassuring nod. With another sharp breath she turned her attention forward and steeled for what was coming. 

She soon spotted him, a figure cloaked in dark purple cresting the hill.  _Lotor_. His complexion was particularly sallow under the afternoon sun, and the effect was only compounded by his flow of greasy black hair. Allura couldn’t help but frown. He was smiling at her, an almost reptilian grimace. A memory from her childhood, the two of them chasing after frogs in the palace courtyard, flashed before her eyes. Things were certainly different now.

“Queen Allura, thank you for agreeing to my proposal,” Lotor called in greeting as he left his guard to join her. “It has been many years since our last meeting, has it not? I must say, the legends have not exaggerated your beauty.” 

Hot anger flashed in Allura’s veins as his eyes raked over her body, her hand twitching toward the sword that was not there. She bit back a spiteful curse, only narrowing her eyes and saying, “I did not come here for a leisurely chat, Prince Lotor. If you will not take this seriously, there will no hope for  _parley._ ”

Lotor offered her a short bow, still smiling. “Of course, Your Majesty.” He folded his arms, studying her with beady, dark eyes. “First, let me assure you that I do not intend to carry on as King Zarkon did. Neither Zarkon nor Alfor were able to achieve peace, but I genuinely hope that  _we_ can do more.”

Hearing the Galran prince mention her father sent an unpleasant shiver down her spine, but Allura ignored it. “As do I,” she nodded, “But it will not be easy. My people, and the people of Altea’s allies, want blood. I am not sure that anyone, including myself, is willing to trust you. Not to mention that we will not accept terms in which the Galra continue to occupy foreign lands- and I imagine that would not go over well with your council of ministers.” She gave him a wry smile. “So what have you to say for yourself? How am I supposed to trust you?”

“All valid points,” Lotor said, spreading his arms and shaking his head. “I suppose the short answer, Queen Allura, is that you should not.”

A smile curled over his features again. Allura’s brow furrowed, her pulse suddenly quickening at the glint in his eyes. Then she saw it— a spot of darkness flying toward her from the direction of the woods. 

But it was too late. 

A second later she was hit with a hot flash of pain and stumbled backwards. When she looked down, a wooden shaft was buried deep in her thigh. Dark blood was already soaking the surrounding fabric and her nerves had gone silent and numb. 

The next moment seemed to happen quicker than a lightening strike.

Her hand dove into her boot as she caught her balance on the other leg. She met Lotor’s eyes, flashing with triumph, and as she pushed herself back up a dam of loathing, churning and boiling over after so many years, broke. She heard a raw, guttural cry that might have been hers, and suddenly, in a glint of sunlight, a knife embedded itself in Lotor’s chest. His eyes went wide and wild before he collapsed with a strangled gurgle.

She rolled backward toward her guard, another arrow lodging itself into the ground where her feet had been only a moment before. Her head was spinning. She felt something hot grazing over her arm. Somebody screamed her name; there was flashing metal and pounding footsteps; arms wrapped around her and lifted her from the ground. 

The last thing she saw before she blacked out was her father’s face.


	17. Chapter Fourteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shiro returns from his quest

Shiro couldn’t help a weary smile as he urged his dappled mare into the palace courtyard. The last few weeks hadn’t been kind— he was either driving his poor horse to cover more distance in the night, curled on the hard ground, or fraying his nerves in a Galra camp. Every minute he was awake his muscles ached; every minute he was asleep he was pulled deeper into his twisting subconscious. It was hellish, to say the least.

But now, with a warm bath and a soft bed and the sweet sight of Allura within reach, the tension that seized in his hand, his shoulders, his gut, finally began to ease. Even better- when he dismounted, a shabbily cloaked figure with dirty blond hair slid down beside him.

 “It is all the same,” Matt whispered, his gaze sweeping over the familiar arcades of the cloister. His face was pale and gaunt, but his eyes shone with a happiness that had been absent for years.

Shiro clapped him on the shoulder, surveying the castle with a smile. “It’s good to be home, yes?” He realized, with a satisfied thrill, that he was not only speaking to Matt. This was  _home,_ and he had come to miss it sorely. 

A shuddering breath escaped Matt. Shiro glanced over to see a tear leave a glistening track down his sooty cheek; but for all the pain in his eyes, a smile pulled at his lips. “I never thought I would see it again,” he said in a broken whisper, “Shiro- I can never thank you properly-”

Shiro only offered his hand, pulling Matt into as tight an embrace as he could manage when he clasped it. “You need not thank me,” Shiro said, shaking his head as they pulled away, “I should have come sooner-”

“You cannot hold yourself accountable-” Matt clenched his jaw, his eyes dropping- “It is only the Galra who are at fault.”  

Shiro nodded. “Would you like me to be there- when you tell them?” Their gazes met, and between them flashed the same somber vision. A small, flat stone, one of many embedded in a field outside the camp, bearing a simple inscription:  _Samuel Holt_. The memory weighed heavily on them both.

Still, Matt gave him a bracing smile. “It’s alright, Shiro.” He reached out to clasp his shoulder, “You’ve done enough. Go, get cleaned up. You wouldn’t want to encounter the queen in this state, hm?”

A dry chuckle dispelled some of the tightness in Shiro’s chest, the thought of his reunion with Allura bringing with it a fluttering warmth. “Well, you do not need to tell me twice.” He turned, just in time to see a shock of orange hair and a fluttering cloak striding through the cloister. “Coran!” Shiro hailed, raising a hand to greet the minister as he practically skidded to a stop. “Do you know the whereabouts of Lady Holt? I return with a gift.”

“Shirogane-” As he approached, Shiro could see that the older man’s face was drawn and wan, unusually deep lines creasing his face. “I see you have returned successfully.” Coran surveyed them with a heavy expression. “You were not intercepted by a messenger on your journey back?”

Shiro’s smile fell slowly into a frown at Coran’s haggard tone. “No.” He tucked his hand under his arm, beginning to feel his pulse quicken as a knot grew in his gut. “What is going on?”

Coran’s face grew grim. “You had best come with me- Lady Holt can wait.”

Ice began to creep into his chest. “Sir. What happened?” he asked, voice low with gathering dread as his mind immediately jumped to the darkest possibility—  _Allura._

Coran confirmed his fears. “It is Queen Allura. The meeting with Prince Lotor was a trap, a hidden archer-”

A sickening, sinking feeling overtook him. Shiro lurched forward, grabbing Coran’s shoulder with wild eyes. “Where is she? Is she alive?” His words shook with desperation, but he could hardly hear himself over the blood that pounded in his ears.

All he could make out of Coran’s reply was, “ _Yes_ , she is-” 

After that, his senses left him. 

He didn’t hear the shriek that came from the other end of the courtyard. “ _Matthew!”_

He didn’t hear the clattering of footsteps, the rustling of skirts, the choked sobs of disbelief and relief and overwhelming joy. He didn’t see Matt falling backwards as his sister launched herself through the air to tackle him.

All he saw was rippling fabric of Coran’s cloak, leading him away from the courtyard and toward another nightmare. He couldn’t even think; any logical thought had been overtaken by the maelstrom that had exploded in his chest. Shiro had known fear of many types in his life, but none like this. It was black and cold, wrenching at every fiber in his body, like a collapsing star sucking everything into his gut; and yet, simultaneously, fury coursed hot through his veins, burning against the darkness and setting him on fire. 

Fierce anger, directionless yet directed at everyone, radiated from the pit in his chest. He was furious with the royal guard for failing in their duties. He was murderously angry with the Galra and their Prince, whose neck Shiro would have gladly snapped. But almost more so, he was disgusted with himself. He had almost thought himself  _worthy_ of her, daring to love her and kiss her and wear her emblem as he abandoned her to pursue selfish redemption—

Suddenly they were in the hospital wing, and the storm melted away at the sight of her.

Allura almost looked as if she could merely be in a blissful sleep, her hands folded over her stomach and chest rising and falling with even breaths; but her face, pale and covered in a sheen of sweat, betrayed her pain.

Shiro fell to his knees at her bedside. His hand hovered before him, shaking in the air above hers— he did not dare to touch. “ _Allura_ ,” he choked, the word catching on the rawness of his throat. “I- I am sorry-” 

He felt himself collapse and, if only for a brief moment, let himself drown in a cascade of darkness and ragged breathing and hot stinging tears. Then, just as the feeling had swallowed him whole, he drew himself together again, steadying his breaths and drying his eyes. Allura had not stirred. 

Murmuring began to float toward him from the infirmary aisle, and soon Shiro felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned, surprised to see Prince Lance looking down at him sympathetically. 

“Lord Prince-” Shiro stood quickly, offering him a short bow. He hesitated, unsure of what to say. The stunted awkwardness of their first meetings was long in the past, but Shiro realized he had never gotten to know Lance beyond his first impression— that of a frivolous young man who engaged in play-outings like a child does make-believe. He admired the prince’s dedication to Keith in the face of the arranged marriage, and was gratified to see his friend happy, but had not given the matter much thought besides. Now they stood facing one another with no bridge between them, and sorely felt its absence. 

Then Lance held out his hand. “I am glad to see you returned safely, Shiro,” he said with a nod. 

“Thank you, Prince Lance.” Shiro grasped his forearm, just then noticing that Lance was wearing his arm guard and breast plate, bow and quiver strapped over his back. He met Lance’s eyes, and suddenly found himself questioning that long held impression. Something had changed in the prince, in the way he carried himself; there was a sense of focus, of solemnity, of drive, that Shiro had never noticed before. Even his gaze had a renewed clarity to it. 

Shiro dragged his hand over his face. “So, Her Majesty, is she-” He couldn’t quite bring himself to finish the question.

Lance sighed, folding his arms as he looked down at his cousin. “I was intercepted by a messenger and arrived about a day after the royal party. Allura was in bad condition, lost a lot of blood.” A deep frown pulled at his features. “She has been fighting an infection this past week,” he said, leaning down to brush a stray lock of hair from her brow, “Her fever finally broke last night. The doctors say the worst is behind us, but...” He trailed off, his gaze lingering on Allura’s face. 

“But what?” Shiro asked. His adamant tone forced the prince to meet his eyes, but when their gazes met Shiro looked away. The piercing blue was too familiar. 

“She will recover.” Lance scratched his head, sighing again. “But to what extent, we cannot be sure. Her leg may never fully heal, and if the infection returns, well-” He paused, glancing at Shiro’s residual limb. 

Shiro let out a slow breath, the knot in his stomach beginning to tighten once more. “Let us pray it does not come to that.”

For a moment the two men stood watching over the queen’s bed in silence. A sharp exhale deflated Lance’s chest and he turned to go. 

Before he parted the privacy curtain, the prince turned back to Shiro. “You know- earlier, before her fever broke,” he said in a soft tone, “She would call for you, in her sleep.” A smile broke over his face. “I was a little jealous, actually. My name came up once or twice. But every other word was  _Shiro._ ”

With that, Shiro was left alone. As Lance’s footsteps receded, the only sound in the infirmary became the steady ebb and flow of Allura’s breaths. With a tentative hand, Shiro reached out and smoothed back her silver locks.

* * *

 

The next week passed in a blur. Shiro scarcely knew when he ate or slept; his days, and some of his nights, were mostly spent pacing the infirmary. The hours passed in distress, until Allura would rouse briefly from her slumber and banish his worries with her light. If he was alone in the hospital wing he would sit beside her bed, gently cradling her hand or caressing her hair, and murmur soft reassurances to her until she drifted back into slumber. As the days progressed she gained strength little by little, asking him about his quest for Matt and laughing thinly at his quips. In those moments, when she squeezed his hand and smiled with light in her eyes, Shiro felt as if they were wrapped in their own bubble of warmth, floating frozen in time. 

But, in others, it was like he was slowly falling down a spiral staircase, watching the light of a far away oculus disappear into darkness. Some days Allura could not hide her pain, her smile thinning and gaze becoming unfocused. Some days Coran, joined increasingly by Lance, could hardly hold back the ministers waiting to bombard her with questions about the next phase of the war. At erratic intervals Shiro would feel all his emotion leave him, like water rushing down a drain. Even his fear and worry seemed numb. Then, without warning, something would erupt within him and he would drop everything to rush to the training pitch. Only after watching the chippings of the wooden modules fly from beneath his hacking blade would Shiro begin to feel balanced again.

It was one such afternoon that began his second week back at the castle. 

He had entered the hospital wing to find Keith, Lance, and Matt standing at the edge of the circle of ministers around Allura’s bed, all three murmuring in urgent tones. When they noticed his approach, they all fell silent. A familiar acidity rose in the back of Shiro’s throat. He turned around and left.

Then, as he paced back down the corridor, a snippet of conversation overheard between two generals- one lamenting the sluggish pace of bureaucracy with the Queen’s condition, the other suggesting rather facetiously that they just crown a new King and get on with it- sent heat coursing quick through Shiro’s veins. He pushed past them in the corridor, the infirmary soon behind him as he broke out onto the grounds. As he strode toward the pitch he heard someone calling out from behind him, but he ignored the voice. It sounded again once or twice, but Shiro continued on until he reached the courtyard that marked the entrance to the training grounds.

There was a quick sound of crunching gravel before a hand came down on his shoulder. “Shiro.” The voice was Keith’s. “Might we speak for a moment?”

Shiro clenched his fists, staring straight ahead. “Now is not a good time, Keith. Perhaps later.”

“This is important. We-  _I_ worry for you. We have barely spoken, since you returned.” Keith’s hand left his shoulder, but his voice was rough with concern.

Shiro sighed, some of his anger softening. He turned, tucking his hand under his arm. “Alright,” he said, “What is this about? I appreciate your concern, but you needn’t worry about me.”

Keith’s brows knit. “Shiro, it has been nearly a fortnight. You sleep worse than ever, I hardly see you in the mess hall, you haunt the corridors at night like a ghost-” He sighed, shifting as his eyes flitted around the courtyard before returning to Shiro’s. “I know you worry for her, we all do. But you must think of yourself too- and your duties. You’ve neglected nearly  _all_ of your training sessions this week, and all the time you spend in the hospital wing— well, people are becoming...” He winced, “Suspicious. Lance and Matt have both heard rumors, of how close you seem to be to Queen Allura-”

Shiro’s eyes flashed, his nostrils flaring. “What exactly are you suggesting, Keith? That my concern for her is  _inappropriate_? That I should just abandon her again to focus on what? These inane training exercises?”

“Shiro,” Keith held up his hands, his voice taking a defensive edge, “You know that is not my meaning-”

Shiro hardly heard his words. The knot of energy that had been twisting in his stomach released in a wave of harsh anger. “Spare me,” he growled, “I know you have no reason to care for her— you are just like the rest, only eager for her to either give another order or  _die_ so that you can move on! Do you think  _Lance_ will be given the crown, then? Is that what you wait for?” His blood began to pound as his voice rose, rash words bubbling up from a dark crevice in his heart. “I know you were there, in her guard- you just stood and watched while she was  _shot_. You never cared, you  _let_ it happen!” Suddenly his hand flew out and slammed against Keith’s chest with a dull thud. 

Keith stumbled backward, his eyes wide, but quickly recovered his balance. With a hard frown he reached out and grabbed Shiro by the wrist. “You know that is unfair,” he said in a voice low and steady, “I say these things because I care, not because I wish to hurt you.”

He released his grip, and with a pained look turned back the way he had come. 

Shiro stood frozen, his chest rising and falling with rapid breaths. Then his eyes fell on the fountain that stood in the center of the courtyard, its basin reflecting the budding trees in its gentle ripples. Shiro, too, was mirrored in the water. He was gripping the hilt of his blade with white knuckles. His hair was matted, too long around the ears. His beard had grown unkempt and scraggly, and his eyes flashed with a wild glint. 

A sudden wave of shame came crashing over him. He looked toward the grounds, but Keith had already gone. Shiro’s shoulders sagged with a ragged sigh. He leaned heavily against the fountain wall, staring into its depths. He dipped his hand into the cool water, marring his reflection, and splashed it against his face. A warm wind blew through the courtyard.

* * *

 

A week later, Shiro arrived at the infirmary to find Allura sitting propped against her pillows, several leaves of parchment strewn over her lap. The room was deserted, so she beckoned him close. He leaned in to press a gentle kiss to her lips, noting with a smile how she glowed in the evening light.

“So smooth,” she sighed, running a hand along his clean shaven cheek. 

Shiro chuckled. “Must you really sigh so mournfully while I am still present?”

“I’m sorry, my love,” Allura murmured, the corner of her lip curling upward, “You know I loved your beard.”

“Like all things, it eventually ran its course. But perhaps next winter it will make another appearance.” Shiro gave her hand a squeeze, mirroring her infectious smile. 

Allura bit her lip with a mischievous look. “Well, I  _suppose_ you are still handsome, even without it-” 

Shiro shook his head and clicked his tongue. “My, it seems you  _are_ recovering. You’ll be belittling me on the training pitch once more in no time at all.” 

“Actually, on the subject— I was given the all-clear by the doctor this morning.” She ran her hand gently over the side of his face, her eyes glinting with hope. “The worst is behind us, Shiro. Officially.”

“ _Allura-_ ” Shiro cupped her face and brought her into a tender kiss. “That is wonderful,” he murmured against her lips, “I- I worried.” 

Allura leaned into him once more, slowly savoring his touch. “I know.” She sucked in a breath and tapped his chest, her face brightening again. “Now, if you don’t mind terribly, I would like to finally get out of this blasted bed and this blasted infirmary and  _walk_ , even if it is with this blasted leg brace-”

Shiro slid his arm under hers with a smile. “Perhaps to the  _blasted_ rose garden, milady?”

“Ah, yes, a perfect idea-” Allura leaned against him as she rose unsteadily onto her feet, wincing at the adjustment- “There we will surely avoid my ministers. I swear on my life, Shiro, if I had not shooed them from my bedside earlier I would have committed a terrible act of treason...”

Strolling along the winding pathway into the gardens, the high walls of the castle fell away to reveal a brilliant patch of evening sky, streaked with glowing golden hues. The blooming foliage seemed to reach for the sky, savoring the last of the day’s sun and sheltering the inhabitants of the garden from the bustle of the main grounds. 

Allura clung to Shiro’s arm, slowly growing accustomed to the clunky wooden brace that supported her injured leg. Wandering among the roses and juniberry blossoms, Shiro’s weight steady and warm beside her, she felt safer than she had for a long time. In quiet tones, they talked of everything that had happened in the last weeks.

 “—And I hope you can forgive me, Shiro, for what I put you through. It was a selfish act, I know-”

“Please, there is nothing to forgive.” Shiro met her gaze solemnly, taking her hand to gently guide her to a bench along the path. “You were right in what you did. Keith told me all that happened, and were it about anyone but you I would have hardly believed it. But I could picture it all so clearly.” A grin, proud and hopeful, broke over his face. “You did it, Allura— you  _ended_ the war. Just as you vowed you would.” 

“Yes, I- I suppose I did.” A soft smile curved over her features, but she turned her head, letting her gaze graze the top of a distant wall. When at length she spoke, her voice was quiet. “I used to wonder, when I conjured the scenario in my head, if I would hesitate. But I didn’t. I saw my knife, embedded in his chest, and his face, and the blood-” Her eyes, clear and blue, flashed to his. “The vision does not haunt me. I wondered if- if it would-” She paused. “Or if it should.”

Shiro clasped her hand and met her gaze unwaveringly. “You have nothing to regret,” he said, voice low and steady, “You honored your father, and your kingdom.”

Allura squeezed his hand with reciprocal pressure. “Thank you,” she sighed, leaning to lay her hand against his shoulder, “You also acted honorably, you know. You saved Matthew. You reunited a family.”

“I only wish I could have been at your bedside during the darkest hours,” he murmured close to her ear, kissing the crown of her head. 

“That would only have tortured you further. I was so delirious, I could hardly tell Lance from Coran.” She looked up at him with a dry chuckle. “I was just glad to see you had safely returned to the castle, once the fever broke. Seeing you at my bedside, it always gives me strength.”

Shiro turned, his hand leaving her waist to caress the silver locks that framed her face. New lines traced creases around her eyes, but her skin still glowed richly in the sunset. “And all this time,” he said,” I thought  _you_ were lending  _me_ strength.”

Moisture threatened to sting Allura’s eyes, but they fluttered closed as she leaned to nuzzle her forehead against Shiro’s. She reached up to cradle either side of his face, holding him close to her, savoring his warmth and solidity. Their noses brushed, their lips only an inch apart. “It’s hard to believe that it is finally over,” she breathed.

Shiro drew his hand through her hair. “I know,” he said, mumbling against her skin. He kissed her cheek, the tip of her nose, and finally met her lips, full and sweet. A warm breeze stirred the fragrant air. Allura hummed in the back of her throat as she fell passionately into his kiss. Shiro hitched his arm under her legs, pulling her onto his lap as she anchored one hand around the nape of his neck while the other buried itself in his hair, then cupped his face, then clutched his residual limb. Desperately they clung to the warm tactility of one another, hearts bursting with relief and joy as every touch confirmed that yes, they were indeed alive, and safe, and real. 

Both sighed the other’s name, falling deeper into their kiss until neither could remember even to breathe. The intoxicating shroud of dusk, its darkness heavy with spring perfume, fell over the garden as the sun slipped below the castle wall. 

Then, just as the thought crossed Shiro’s mind that he would be content should time stop forever at that moment, a rustling along the path cracked their cocoon. Allura’s eyes flew open, first piercing Shiro with daggers, as he slid her back a respectful distance on the bench, before flying to the path. He had only a second to smooth back his hair and slow his rapid breaths before a figure appeared at the mouth of the clearing. 

Ryner, the gardener, stood bathed in the yellow light of the lantern she held aloft. Her face, wrinkled and sun-tanned, betrayed no surprise at the sight of them. “Good evening, Your Majesty,” she said, slowly lowering herself onto one knee, “My apologies if I startled you.”

“Not to worry, Ryner. The garden is your domain, after all.” Allura’s face was smooth with a gracious smile, but Shiro noticed how she clung white-knuckled to the bench. “Please, do not let us disturb your lamp-lighting duties.” She turned to Shiro, her chest still heaving with shallow breaths, and offered him her arm. “We should return to the castle,” she said, “I suppose the ministers cannot be kept at bay forever. And, if you do not mind the burden terribly, I would like to avoid straining myself before I have even healed properly.”

Shiro met the gardener’s eye for a brief moment. “Of course, Queen Allura.” He gave her a nod, gingerly taking her arm and guiding her back the way they had come as Ryner shuffled off.

When they were out of earshot, Allura heaved a frustrated sigh. “It seems it is never  _truly_ over,” she muttered.

“I know,” Shiro frowned, kissing her hand as they passed through the shadow between two lamps, “I know.”


	18. Chapter Fifteen: Final Chapter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The end of the Galran War brings about many changes

“This is why you need your own chambermaid.” 

Keith pursed his lips as Lance’s face popped up from his chest. “I’ll get right on that, Your Highness. Perhaps I could borrow Miri, when you haven’t the need for her?”

A smile curled over Lance’s lips as he reached out to finger the tassels that hung from Keith’s shoulders. “Awful sarcastic tonight, aren’t we? All because the prince had to fix your buttons?”

“You know I am unused to this sort of thing.” Keith scowled, fussing with the hem of his formal jacket. “This attire, this ball…” His eyes dropped from Lance’s, surveying the prince’s quarters rather than meeting his bright gaze. 

“Keith, love,” Lance’s hand tapped against his chest, “This is nothing to be anxious about. You’ve seen battle— this is dancing, drinking, feasting. We can finally let everything…melt away, yes?”

Keith glanced up. Lance’s eyes were soft, his smile hopeful. Keith frowned. “Well,” he sighed, folding his hand over Lance’s, “Not  _everything_.”

Lance’s face fell. “Keith-”

“-I know.” Keith squeezed Lance’s hand, trying to swallow the lump that threatened to rise in his throat. “But, especially after everything that happened with your engagement…having to spend all night watching you dance with girls in the court— it is not a great prospect.”

Lance reached out to cup the side of Keith’s face. “I know,” he murmured, “Believe me, I wish things were different. What I would give to tell those girls to go harass Shiro instead, because all of my dances are claimed-” Keith chuckled, leaning into the warmth of Lance’s hand. “-But we will be together for the rest of the night. That is better than nothing at all, isn’t it?”

“Of course,” Keith said, studying the crystalline eyes that glinted at him. He leaned forward to press a slow kiss to Lance’s lips. Nowadays every kiss, every touch, felt like reaffirmation. Lance was his, and he was Lance’s. Keith whispered, “Will you dance with me now, then?”

Lance kissed him again, smiling against his lips. “Of course.”

Keith slid his hand down to Lance’s waist as the prince entwined their fingers and laid his head against Keith’s shoulder. Keith rested his chin on the crown of Lance’s head and started humming, an old Gaian love song he remembered his father singing to his mother. It was barely a dance, the two of them swaying gently in a small circle, but it was enough. Just to hold Lance in his arms was enough for Keith.

“Lord Prince, Master Keith! You’ve been summoned!” 

Miri’s voice came muffled through the door, ending their moment when it had only just begun. They pulled away with a sigh, Lance pressing his lips softly to Keith’s forehead.

“Alright then,” Keith said with a bracing smile, giving Lance’s hand one last squeeze, “Let’s get this over with, shall we?”

* * *

 

“ _Attention!_ ”

Silence fell over the crowd, all heads turning toward the grand staircase at the head of the room.

“ _Presenting Her Majesty, Queen Allura!_ ”

Several gasps came from the bodies that pressed close to Shiro in the crowd, but he was silent. His mouth had gone dry, his jaw slack. All his bodily energy seemed to have gone into trying not to drop his glass.

She appeared in the candlelight like some idyllic vision, floating down to the ballroom with an elegance unparalleled. Her hair was pinned in curls like sculpted moonlight, exposing the gentle slope of her shoulders. Her dark skin was glowing softly and as she reached the bottom step the crowd parted to make a wide clearing, as if sensing they were not worthy to encroach on her ethereal sphere. 

Allura glided first over to Coran, who clasped her outstretched hand with a deep bow. She leaned in and pecked a kiss against the older man’s cheek, whispering something in his ear that made him smile fondly. He replied, too low to hear, and patted her hand. 

Next she moved to Lance, standing further down along the perimeter of the dance floor. He met her likewise with a bow, pressing his lips to her knuckles when she offered her hand. The prince opened his mouth as if to speak but Allura pulled him into a tight, albeit brief, hug. Smiles and whispers traveled through the ring of subjects, all perhaps wondering where the famously icy exterior of their Queen had gone.

Allura left Lance and began slowly floating down the line, meeting the greetings of the court with nods and smiles. With every rustle of her trailing skirts and flicker of her gaze a wave of fidgeting seemed to wash over the crowd, among the young men in particular. With the familial greetings completed, the ball’s attention turned to the question which had preoccupied Castle gossip since the announcement of the victory ball— whom would Queen Allura choose for her first dance partner? As she made her way further along the ring, intermingling expressions of disappointment and relief broke out among the rejected eligible. 

Shiro watched the proceedings with amusement, trying to ignore the jealousy that crept into his heart at the sight of the knights adjusting their posture, their hair, their cloaks, in the hopes of catching the eye of the beautiful Queen. He reminded himself that it was only one dance he would have to watch, nothing more than a formality. She would choose the son of some Lord, perhaps one who had given the most resources to the war effort. It was only political.

But then, she paused before him.

For a moment Shiro forgot even to bow, so lost was he in her luminous curls and glowing skin and infinite eyes. She held out a gloved hand with an almost coy smile. Keith, standing beside him, elbowed his side. Shiro clamped his hanging jaw shut and bent low at the waist, delicately bringing her fingers to his lips. “Your Highness,” he murmured. 

“Shirogane-” Allura spoke in a loud, clear voice for all to hear, meeting his gaze without trepidation. “-Warrior of Gaia, Valued Adviser, Bearer of the Blessing of Altea. Might you join me in beginning this night of victorious celebration?”

A tide of whispers rose from the crowd, but Allura only tilted her head at him, expression unchanged. Shiro pressed his lips together to hide a smile. He gave her another sweeping bow. “It would be my great honor, Your Majesty.”

Hand in hand, they walked to the center of the grand ballroom. From the far end of the room strings began to swell and she met his bow with a curtsy. The dance began, a traditional Altean waltz that had been popular during Shiro’s time as a Gaian officer. Their hands met and kept them anchored to one another as they slid apart, stepping in a circle at arm’s length. Even so close she was like a dream, glowing softly under the light of the chandelier. The crown that rested atop her head picked up the colors of her hair and eyes, its jewels glittering like a halo. Powder blue silk sloped off her shoulders, trailing sleeves draping against the folds of her skirt that erupted from her waist. Small flowers, embroidered in pink and orange, crawled up the hem of her dress and wrapped around her bodice, transforming her into some goddess of spring as she moved. Shiro was as stricken by her beauty then as he had been the first moment they met, when she had sat armored on her throne and stared down at him wrathfully.

“Yes, Shiro?” Allura hummed, catching his eye with a smile.

He blinked, her voice pulling him from his reverie. “I was only thinking that you look especially beautiful tonight, Queen Allura,” he said in a low voice.

A satisfied flush colored her cheeks. At a cue from the music they stepped close to each other, Shiro reaching for her waist as she rested one hand atop his shoulder and the other against his residual limb. “Well, you certainly look dashing yourself,” she murmured, “I like you in your military jacket, you know. You look sharp in black.”

A crooked grin pulled over Shiro’s face. “The music may disguise our conversation, but if you continue like that the redness of my face will surely expose us.” 

Allura smiled softly as her gaze swept over the room that swirled around them. “Actually, that has been on my mind of late, Shiro,” she said, looking back at him and squeezing his arm. Her eyes became serious, searching his. “All those weeks when I was laid up in the hospital…well, there were times I wasn’t sure if I were alive of dead. But in those moments between my feverish dreams, when I had a glimpse of lucidity, my only thoughts were of you. When I awoke, and you were holding my hand- I never wanted to let go.”

“Allura,” Shiro murmured, resisting the urge to caress her cheek.

“Shiro, having you and Lance in my life is perhaps the only good thing to come out of this war-” Allura smiled, dazzling and full of hope- “And I do not intend to have either taken away from me. I have a surprise for you, later, that I believe will make things a little easier for us, and I think- well, perhaps the time for discretion is over. I am tired of hiding and sneaking. The war is over. Doesn’t it feel like a new chapter is beginning?”

The waltz drew to a close, strings settling into a joyous final chord. They had stopped moving, but Shiro was sure the room was still spinning. He met her shining eyes with a wide smile. “Yes,” he said,  “It does.”

He stepped back, giving his partner a deep bow. The crowd clapped politely. Then, as Shiro straightened to lead Allura off the dance floor, he felt a hand gently catch the side of his face. He only had a second to register that her other hand had folded itself into his, and that her sweet perfume was wafting toward him from only an inch away, and that her lips were curled into delighted smile.

“I love you, Shiro,” she whispered.

She kissed him.

It was soft and chaste, like a phantom against his lips, but still, she kissed him before the whole room.

The applause ceased.

“I love you, too.” It came out like a breath, but he felt as if it were echoing through the silence, carrying up to the vaults of the ceiling. His chest erupted with a lightness he had never felt before, like he was suddenly floating an inch from the ground.

A whoop from somewhere in the crowd- certainly Lance’s doing- broke the silence, and another smattering of applause broke out. Allura, utterly unfazed, gave the room a sweeping gesture and called, “My victorious subjects- let the celebration begin!” 

The music struck up again and the scandalized murmurs soon became lost in the hubbub of young courtiers scrambling to secure their first dance. Allura turned to him, her face still flushed with excitement. “I apologize if I took you by surprise, Shiro,” she said as she threaded an arm through his, “But I confess I feel as if an anvil has been lifted off my chest.”

“I could not have said it better,” he said in her ear. “And as always, your courage is the stuff of legends.” 

The rest of the night passed in a blur of twinkling candlelight, swirling dances, and bubbling drinks. Allura twirled across the dance floor, attending first to Lance and Coran and (a little to Shiro’s surprise) Keith, before giving the eager lords and knights their turn; she returned to snatch Shiro up as often as she could, although not as often as he would have liked. In the meantime, Shiro approached Lady Holt with a sweeping bow and led her to the floor while Matt and Katie- sweetly unembarrassed to be dancing with her brother- waltzed beside them.

Some time later Shiro found himself falling into a seat at the edge of the room next to Keith and Lance. Matt had shooed him away, having discovered that standing beside the man Queen Allura had publicly claimed as her own was efficient dance partner repellent. 

“Having a good evening?” Keith smirked, taking a sip of champagne. 

“And an eventful one, certainly,” Shiro chuckled. His smile dropped a bit when his eyes came to rest on the two younger men, whose only physical contact were the closeness of their knees. He lowered his voice, “I am sorry, really, that the two of you could not have such a moment tonight-”

“-Please, Shiro, do not apologize,” Lance cut in, raising his hand. “After all you’ve been through, you and Allura deserve your own night. And- we have our own moments.” He looked at Keith with a smile so full of fondness that it brought a surge of warmth to Shiro’s chest, and his own eyes flickered to where Allura was sailing across the dance floor.

“And besides,” Keith said, “With everything Queen Allura’s planning, change may well be on the horizo-” 

Suddenly Lance shifted, and Shiro didn’t miss his elbow digging into Keith’s side. Keith went wide-eyed, bursting into a coughing fit and taking a long draw from his glass when he met Shiro’s raised brow. Both seemed oddly relieved when Coran approached and interrupted Keith’s attempt to speak again.

“Lord Prince, Young Masters,” Coran gave them a short bow, “Am I interrupting?”

“Absolutely not, my good sir,” Lance flashed a wide smile, gesturing for him to join them, “Are you enjoying the festivities? You most among us have earned a little celebrating.”

“Immensely, Prince Lance. I have not seen Altea this joyous in many years.” Coran bowed again, his mustache bristling with satisfaction. “But, if you’ll pardon the intrusion, I have business with Shiro— would you join me somewhere a little quieter, perhaps?”

Shiro drained his glass, throwing one last look at Keith and Lance, who seemed to be deflating in their seats, as he followed Coran into the hall. “Is something the matter?” he asked once they were away from the din of the party, “Has there been another development, with the Galra?”

“No, no, nothing of the sort-” Coran shook his head, a gloved hand reaching up to smooth his facial hair. His sharp eyes seemed to be scanning Shiro’s face rather seriously, but before Shiro could speak he started pacing a short length of the hallway and said, “Shiro, I have had the pleasure of serving the Kingdom of Altea for many, many years. First under King Alfor, and now under Queen Allura. I like to think I know her well. I was there when she was born, and her mother passed away- I had a bit of a hand in raising her, actually. I was there when her father passed, and I was there when she was coronated.”

Shiro swallowed. Memories of a talk which had begun very similarly came back to him, from when he was a only boy, caught flirting with the baker’s daughter when his mother sent him for their daily loaves. But that was long ago, and Coran was no village baker.

Coran, seemingly unaware of Shiro’s discomfort, continued, “She is the very heart and soul of our people. The joy that is so palpable tonight has her at its core.” He stopped abruptly, turning to look at Shiro. “But I did not realize until tonight, with her, ah, display _,_ how closely  _you_ are tied to that joy. The way she looks at you- I have not seen such spark in her eyes for a long time. And as I told you before, Shiro, if the Queen trusts you, that is good enough for me.”

Shiro frowned, his gaze locked with Coran’s as he tried to discern exactly the meaning of the older man’s words. “Thank you, sir,” he said, slowly, “But I-”

Again, he was cut off with a hand. “As I said, I have become rather close to the royal family in my years, and as such I became custodian of a certain heirloom upon the King’s passing…” Coran reached into his jacket lining and Shiro’s heart skipped a beat.

Held delicately between Coran’s gloved fingers, glinting in the candlelight, was a ring. The delicate gold band was carved with floral motifs, all twisting toward a cluster of diamonds that shone brightly in the center.

“It was her mother’s.” Coran gazed at the ring with a wistful smile. “I was to hold onto it- in case she ever wished to marry.”

Shiro felt as if the bubbles from all the night’s champagne had gone to his head. With a pounding heart he reached out, hesitantly taking the bejeweled ring in his calloused, scarred hand. “Coran— I, I cannot thank you properly-” The words came out haltingly, caught in the growing rawness of his throat.

Coran only smiled, holding out his hand. Shiro tucked the ring safely away and then grasped it warmly— and to his surprise, Coran pulled him into a tight hug and clapped him on the back. “No thanks are needed, my boy.”

* * *

 

Some days later, Shiro was nursing a headache after a rough night’s sleep when a sharp rapping sounded at his bedchamber door. In the hall he found a young page, who bowed sharply to him and announced, “Master Shirogane, your presence is urgently requested by Her Majesty the Queen!” The page’s eyes flickered over him with an uncertain expression before he bowed again and called in a high voice, “You are also requested to be received by Her Majesty in formal garb, Master Shirogane!”

Shiro blinked, the pain in his head receding at the sudden declaration. “Urgently?” He grip tightened on the door handle, “Is something the matter? Is the Queen alright?”

The boy bit his inner lip, fidgeting with the edge of his tunic. “The Queen is alright, Master Shirogane, but beyond that I am not at liberty to say-”

“What do you mean, boy? What is going on?” Shiro’s brows knit, irritation beginning to replace his anxiety.

“Her Majesty forbade me from telling any more than I have, Master Shi-”

“-Very well, very well,” Shiro waved away the boy’s words, “Queen Allura has her way, doesn’t she? Wait here, I’ll only be a moment...”

A short while later found Shiro approaching the doors of the great hall, where he had first been led so long ago (for it couldn’t possibly be less than a year, with so much having changed since then.) Two guards stood between the doors and a group of young soldiers. Shiro vaguely recognized a few of them from his training, and as he came closer a familiar face elbowed to the front.

“Keith-” Shiro clasped his friend’s hand- “What is the meaning of all this? Were you dragged from your chambers as well?”

“Not quite,” Keith said, a smile on his face that Shiro didn’t understand. The swordsman threw a glance toward the doors of the hall. “All will be clear in a moment, now that you’ve arrived-”

As if on cue, the towering oak doors swung open, sending a gust through the hall. All murmuring ceased and the soldiers arranged themselves in pairs, with Keith and Shiro at the front. Suddenly a trumpet sounded and Coran appeared before the double lines, gesturing for them to follow as he turned solemnly on his heel and marched into the hall. Members of the court lined a central aisle and banners bearing the royal emblem lined the walls. At the head of the room, standing before her throne with a gleaming sword in hand, was Allura.

Shiro blinked, following Keith’s lead with uncertain steps. He caught the eyes of the Queen and the Prince, who stood behind her, but neither offered any explanation in their expressions. Finally, Coran approached the throne with a sweeping bow and called, “Queen Allura, I present the candidates for knighthood, distinguished by their valor in the Galran War.”

Allura was smiling at him. She spoke, something about honor and courage, but Shiro hadn’t been able to hear past word  _knighthood_. Memories flashed before his eyes and started his blood pounding. He saw his badge, marking him as a Gaian officer, ripped from his chest and crushed under the foot of a Galra soldier. He saw his sword clattering to the ground as he cursed his left hand, useless and trembling from strain. He had found himself kneeling, battered and scarred, on a cold floor many times before, but now- now was so much different. 

His heart soared as he felt the cold metal of the blade press against each of his shoulders in succession. A familiar voice said, “Rise, Knight of Altea.”

Shiro drew himself up, hardly able to keep the smile from his lips as he met Allura’s eyes, sparkling and proud.

He could see Lance beaming in the background as she did the same to Keith. One by one the soldiers that knelt on either side of him stood, each barely able to contain their happiness. The trumpets sounded again and Shiro turned to Keith, waiting for the crowd’s applause to signal the end of the ceremony; but his friendly only nodded toward Allura with a knowing smile.

She wasn’t looking at him, but a broad smile came over her face as she held up her hands to end the murmuring. “It is now my great pleasure to bestow additional honors on two deserving individuals, whose acts of bravery and loyalty to crown and country touched the hearts of all who bore witness—” She paused, fixing her gaze on Shiro with a fond smile as she approached with slow steps. When she came to a halt before him and Keith, a pageboy scurried to her side with velvet pillow displaying two Altean crests. “Sir Keith and Sir Takashi- I, Queen Allura, hereby offer the title of Lord to he who wishes to accept it. Take this as a display of my gratitude and good will, on behalf of the Kingdom of Altea.”

He and Keith answered in unison: “I accept.” 

Shiro could not tear his eyes from Allura’s, shining like fire and ice, as she pinned the crest to his chest. Her hand lingered over his heart for a moment, before she turned to confer the same honor upon Keith. 

He still felt blood rushing to his head when the ceremony was concluded and the crowd descended on them in their rush to the reception feast, but he managed to grab Allura’s hand in the crush of the hall and pull her out onto a balcony.

Shiro shut the door behind them with a slow sigh, happy to find a moment of peace after the unexpected excitement of the morning. The sun was at high noon, soaking Allura in its light and illuminating the young, early-summer greens that lay in the valley below the Castle. 

Allura leaned with her back against the balustrade, surveying him with a smile. “So, did you enjoy my surprise, Lord Shirogane?”

Shiro could not answer, only crossing the balcony with a quick stride to cradle Allura’s face in his hand and draw her full lips to his. He felt her smile against his kiss as her hands settled around the nape of his neck, pulling him closer. In that moment he didn’t care about all the titles and honors in the world; his only thought was of savoring her sweet perfume, her warmth, the touch of her skin against his, for another moment. “I love you, Allura,” he breathed against her lips.

Her hands slid down to caress the sides of his face. “And I love you, Shiro,” she mumbled, still brushing slow kisses against his mouth, “I meant what I said, that I would not let you be taken from me.” 

He leaned in again, kissing her until they were both breathless and then wrapping his arm suddenly around her waist. He held her tight and spun her in a wild circle, free laughter bubbling up from his chest; she clung to him, squealing giddily like a school girl. “Lord Shirogane,” he said, setting Allura down with a grin, “I could have never imagined it, only a month ago— but I believe I could get used to the sound.”

“Good, it suits you.” Allura mirrored his bright smile, her eyes dancing as she caught her breath. “-And I hope this might give Lance and Keith a fighting chance.”

Shiro nodded, pressing a kiss against her forehead. “Now, shall we return to the festivities, Your Majesty?” He offered his elbow with a raised brow.

“If you insist-” She took his arm with a sly curl to her lip- “My Lordship.”

Hand in hand they returned, unable to keep the smiles from their faces as they dove back into the crowd; and so ended one chapter of their lives, and began another. 

* * *

 

_Epilogue:_

The morning was almost unseasonably cool, one of those which seems to foretell the coming of fall, until the sun reaches its peak and warms the land again. But the sun had yet to graze the treetops, and it shed only pale pastel light on the two figures which circled each other in the center of the training pitch.

Shiro and Allura watched each other with faint smiles. The stillness of the morning, broken only by the crunch of gravel underfoot, was refreshing. Lately their training had become like spectacles for the members of the court, but alone at dawn they could conjure up old memories of clandestine sparring matches, fought in the bitter cold and near darkness. 

Allura beckoned Shiro forward with a wave of the hand. They had decided to forego weapons that day, opting for skin on skin. “I haven’t got all day, Shiro,” she goaded, “Lance and Keith depart at noon, you’ll have to make your move before then.”

“The Queen of Altea, afraid to strike first? Must be losing your edge.” Shiro tried to keep match her reserve; but, as always, he couldn’t resist the jaunty smile that accompanied her taunts and lunged. 

She anticipated him, of course, and lithely dodged his swing. With neither swords nor staffs their fighting felt tighter, faster, their bodies weaving together and pulling apart with every hit and feint. Every time one thought they were gaining ground, landing a few kicks or punches, they would lose it the next minute. Allura was all flashes of dark skin and silver hair; Shiro glints of feverishly focused eyes. 

The sky had become colored gold with the sunlight that stretched beyond the treetops by the time their mingling cries ceased. Shiro hit the ground at the edge of the ring with a heavy grunt. Allura, triumphant, sat on his stomach with her forearm pressed to his throat. “Victory,” she declared through gasping breaths.

Shiro gazed up at her with a dazed smile. Her eyes were blue as the summer sky and piercing as the day he met her. Threads of her hair fell loose from her braid to stick to her tanned forehead, glistening with sweat. Her arm pressed mercilessly against his throat but somehow the words slipped out as though he were in a trance: “ _Will you marry me?_ ”

Allura blinked. Her smile dropped as she pulled her arm away from him. “Shiro- are you-”

Shiro sat up and wrapped his arm around her waist, suddenly snapping out of his reverie. He looked into her eyes with a growing smile. “That was sudden, I know. But- I couldn’t help myself. I remembered our first match, when I thought you would have my head, and- and now here you are with your arm on my neck like a madwoman—” He let out a clear laugh as her expression only grew more confused. “And it just made me think of how much everything has changed. You came into my life and everything  _changed_.” He shook his head in wonder, his hand reaching up to smooth back her hair. “Before I met you, I thought fate was cruel- like it only existed to bring me more pain, more misery. But then I realize that all of it, everything that ever happened to me, led me  _here_ , to you.”

“Shiro-” Allura whispered, her eyes glinting with moisture.

“Neither of our lives have been easy, but it comforts me to know that we can understand even a piece of each other,” he said, his voice softening. He reached into his tunic and drew out a ribbon that tied around his neck- at the end dangled a gold ring with a cluster of glinting diamonds. He quickly broke the ribbon with his teeth. “Coran gave this to me, on the day of the Victory Ball. Your mother’s.” Allura nodded, her lip caught between her teeth and hands fluttering unsure over Shiro’s chest. “Allura, I know this is not a simple thing to ask, nor an easy one to decide. But I promise that I will fight for you and with you until my last breath, and will help shoulder your burdens as best I can.” He sucked in a breath. “Will you marry me?”

“ _Yes_ , Shiro!” She hardly let him slip the ring onto her finger before she flung her weight onto him, pressing passionate kisses to his lips. Both tasted salt in their kiss, but instead of ragged breaths came breathless laughter. “It was always easy with you, Shiro, always,” she whispered, pulling back so she could search his eyes. 

The joy that burst in his chest left him speechless. He pulled Allura closer, peppering kisses down her neck and along her jaw. She ran a hand through his hair, smiling as she leaned to press her lips to the crown of his head. Eventually she tilted his chin up with a gentle hand, giving him one last tender kiss and savoring the feeling of metal against her finger as she cupped his cheek. 

“I hate to say it, but we should get ready to see the boys off,” she sighed. 

Shiro chased her lips for another touch. “Would they really begrudge a small delay?”

Allura rose to her feet, offering a hand with a smirk. “I fear Lance will already resent us ruining his grand farewell with our engagement- I’m not sure he would forgive tardiness as well.”

“He already had his day- we threw a feast for his appointment as governor of the new territories, and yet another for Keith’s adjoining military promotion. Or does he forget?”

“Now, now,” Allura slipped her hand into his, pecking him on the cheek, “It is  _my_ duty to speak that way of my cousin, not yours.”

Shiro squeezed her hand, chuckling good-naturedly. “Of course, Queen Allura.”

“Ah! The thought just occurred to me-” She turned to him with a bright smile- “You will have another change in title to grow accustomed to,  _King Shiro_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who has stuck it out and read through the entire fic! I have never attempted something so long, and I hope it didn't end up a complete disaster.   
> Also, extra thanks to every who left kudos and especially comments on my work, I know I'm terrible about replying but know that I read & seriously appreciate all of them!! (Esp now that it's done feel free to leave feedback!! I'd love to hear it)  
> As the story has drawn to a close I'm marking the fic as complete, but keep your eyes peeled for some deleted-scene type drabbles that I wrote but didn't end up including, I'll be posting them eventually! (Also, as I'm probably not ready to let this verse go yet, if you have any Woman King-verse drabbles you'd like to see, send me a request: http://juniperallura.tumblr.com/ask )


	19. Bonus Scene One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance says farewell to Keith before he departs for his parent's court  
> (Takes place before Chapter 11)

_Shing_. 

“Keith, please.” 

_Shi-ing._

The shadow thrown by his flickering candle moved closer.

_Shi-_

“-Keith.”

Keith hesitated, drawing in a tight breath. The shadow was still. He set his knife, its sharpened blade reflected a slice of his own face, onto his bedside table. “I would rather just not talk about it.”

The shadow moved, morphing into Lance as he sat beside him on the bed. “Why?” Lance’s voice was tired. “What do you think I came here to say?” Keith was silent, only looking at their knees sitting side by side. “That I accept this marriage with my whole heart? That when I leave in the morning these past two seasons, these years we have known each other, will be forgotten before the Castle disappears from view?”

“I- I don’t know.”

Lance’s hands moved to grip his knees. “Do you still think me so shallow?” he asked, his voice tight.

Finally, Keith looked over at him; immediately, his heart crumpled. Lance’s lips were pressed into a thin line, his eyes puffy and red. “Lance, no-” Keith reached to lay his hand over Lance’s- “Just, what other option do you have?”

Lance took a deep, shaky breath, entwining his fingers with Keith’s. “Allura says that if you truly care about something, if you truly love something, then you must fight for it with everything in your power, no matter the risks. My parents tired of me, so they sent me here. Now that they are in need of a pawn, they call me back. I am not so sure that they would fight for me with everything in their power-” Lance smiled, the tinge of bitterness falling away as he reached to run a hand over Keith’s cheek. “But Keith, I love you. With everything I have. And I am willing to fight for this, with everything.”

“Lance-” Keith choked out, overwhelmed by all the feelings welling in his chest. He leaned forward, pressing his forehead against Lance’s, savoring his warmth. “I love you, too,” he whispered, “But-” He pulled away just slightly. “They won’t accept your rejection.”

“I will force them to,” Lance answered quickly, his crystalline eyes flashing.

A frown pulled deeply at Keith’s lips. “How?”

“I- I don’t know. But it doesn’t matter, I will-”

The warmth that had blossomed in Keith’s chest was quickly twisting into a cold knot. “How can you say it doesn’t matter? Lance, I love you, but this is not the same as playing apprentice in the village, or- or sneaking a kiss in the hallway, this is serious- you could be  _married_ -” Keith’s eyes widened, his words tumbling faster and faster from his mouth as his grip on Lance’s hand tightened. 

“Keith, Keith-” Lance pulled him into his embrace, letting Keith’s weight fall against his chest as he stroked his hair gently. “I’m sorry, Keith,” he murmured against Keith’s wracking breaths, “I never meant for this to happen. I am sorry.”

He tried for a moment to hold himself together, but pressed against the warm plane of Lance’s chest, enveloped in his touch, his scent, he fell apart. When he recovered his voice he asked in a hoarse whisper, “Does it all ever hit you, like a tidal wave?”

Lance held his eyes, nodding silently. Keeping one hand around Keith’s waist, he lifted the other to wipe away the hot tears that stained his boyfriend’s cheeks. “I love you, Keith. And I promise, nothing will come between us. Nothing.”

“I wish you didn’t have to go.”

“I know.”

Keith watched Lance’s eyes flicker in the candlelight, trying to memorize every detail. Then he cupped Lance’s face in his hands and pulled him into a kiss, deep and salty and scared and desperate. When they pulled away he leaned down to kiss the backs of Lance’s hands. “I love you,” he whispered, “And do not apologize. Go, and have a safe journey.”

Lance gave him a searching look before he leaned in to press a soft kiss to Keith’s lips. Then their hands slid apart and in another moment Keith was left alone in the flickering candlelight. 


	20. Bonus Scene Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A quiet moment between Keith and Allura  
> Takes place before the Coda to Chapter 13

“-I believe that is all. Dismissed.”

One by one, the faces illuminated by candlelight faded into the cool darkness that lay beyond the canvas walls of her tent. As the armored figures of her generals retreated the room seemed to grow darker, without the polished metal of their breastplates to catch the light. Allura leaned closer to the maps that covered the meeting table, her own armor catching the glint of a dying candle.

Behind her, someone cleared their throat. “Excuse me, Your Majesty-”

Allura turned. Everyone else had gone, but she was surprised to see Keith, who had been standing quietly in the corner all evening, still lingering. “Oh, yes, Keith-” She gestured for him to speak. 

He shifted his weight from foot to foot, his eyes never meeting hers for more than a moment. One hand rested on the hilt of his blade while the other tapped restlessly against his leg. “Forgive me if this is inappropriate, Queen Allura, but before tomorrow, I was hoping to inquire about- if-”

“If I have received any correspondence from Lance?” Allura asked softly.

Keith nodded. 

She sighed. “I wish I could tell you otherwise, but no, I have not.” She saw something flicker over his face, as if his features collapsed for just a moment, but then he seemed to steel himself and bowed quickly to her. The silence between them hung heavy for a moment. He moved to go, but Allura felt herself jump and asked, “ _Keith_ — have you- heard anything, from Shiro?” His name caught in her throat.

He turned back to her, his lips pressed into a tight line. “I’m sorry, Queen Allura. Nothing new.” 

She nodded slowly and folded her hands, studying him. Keith met her eyes now, although not defiantly, as she had seen him do the night Lance received the news of his betrothal. There was an intensity to him, to his gaze, that she had not been attentive enough to notice before. It was a look she sometimes recognized in Shiro.

But, behind that, there was a pain she recognized in her own eyes. Suddenly she felt a wave of guilt. She knew of Keith’s past, the hardships he had endured. She knew what he must be struggling with even in that moment; the hollow longing, the fear, and the crushing weight of not being able to express  _any_ of it, without exposing everyone involved. And yet, even knowing and feeling all of that, she let the abyss of their unfamiliarity sit between them, cold and heavy. 

Allura felt her breath hitch. She reached out, her hand crossing slowly through the air until it landed gently on Keith’s shoulder. His eyes widened and flashed to hers, his lip dropping. For a second they both stiffened, but Allura let out a slow breath. “I miss both of them, deeply.” Her voice was barely a whisper. “And I worry for them. But for now, we must stay focused on the task at hand. They know we love them.”

Keith was quiet, giving her a searching look. Then his shoulders sagged as a deep sigh escaped him. “I know. Thank you, Your Majesty-” He laid his hand over hers, just for a moment. “Really.” 

With that he pulled away, offering her a bow and wishing her goodnight. Allura couldn’t help the little curve that pulled at her lips as she watched him disappear through the curtain door. 


End file.
